Atrius - The Main Quest
by Djakjsgdbdkakhxndjs
Summary: Atrius is a Nord, raised in Cyrodiil, the son of a council member and destined for politics. Whilst crossing the border he finds himself at the mercy of one side of the Skyrim civil conflict, but escapes by one dreadful miracle - dragons have returned. This story will follow the main questline. If I feel like it I might branch out into other quests and mini-quests.
1. Before the Storm

**CHAPTER 1 - BEFORE THE STORM**

Life had never been ordinary for Atrius, but today had definitely taken the cake. Somehow caught up in an Imperial ambush, he had escaped certain exection in the small village of Helgen when a dragon attacked. Now he was off to warn the Jarl of Whiterun at the behest of the citizens of Riverwood, a town not far from Helgen – a town now in fear. Dragons had not been seen in centuries. Many presumed they'd been dead, but apparently not. If today was anything to go by, they were alive, well, and a threat to Skyrim – maybe even the other provinces. This certainly wasn't something that happened every day.

"I wonder what ma would've made of it," Atrius though to himself as he trudged the road to Whiterun, the afternoon heat beating on his back.

A Nord and Stormcloak soldier named Ralof had helped him escape Helgen. When they had reached Riverwood, his sister Gerdur had provided a meal for him. Ralof even suggested Atrius join the Stormcloaks, but Atrius suspected that was more nerves from the day than anything else – Atrius was a politician, not a warrior. And in any case, civil war was the last thing on Atrius' mind after today's events. Still – he was indebted to them, and hoped to repay the favour one day.

Thankfully the road from Riverwood to Whiterun was a short one, and it wasn't long before Atrius could see the peaks of the palace in the cloud district somewhere off in the distance. It seemed that the palaces here weren't nearly as grand as the ones from the Imperial City where Atrius had been raised, but Nords were not known for being delicate and desiring luxury so much as the Imperials were.

Before he knew it, Atrius had made it to the city gate, his thoughts carrying him and his feet unconsciously obeying. Before he could make it any further however, a city guard stood in his way.

"Halt! The city's closed with dragons about. Official business only."

He sounded authoritative, but as he wore helmet which masked his face, it was hard to tell if he was afraid. If news had spread this far this soon…well, the city was closed, and that gave Atrius enough information about how the townspeople were feeling right about now.

"Riverwood calls for the Jarls' aid," Atrius said. His father had represented the Nordic race all his life growing up – Atrius knew how to speak for others. He had his father's example to follow.

"Riverwood's in danger too?" The guard asked, his character showing through. He turned to open the gate for Atrius. "You'd better go on in. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill."

Atrius muttered his thanks to the guard before heading inside. He was surprised to find the mood of the people to be fairly non-chalant. Children were running around, merchants were trading. The air was full of laughter when one would've thought it would be filled with hushed and frightened whispers. It made him glad – a strong resolve and joyful heart would be needed in the face of such danger in the days to come. If only they can continue in it.

Sure enough, Dragonsreach stood atop the highest hill in the city. It was only a palace made of wood – not like the stone and marble Atrius had known in the Imperial City – but there was something charming about it. He opened the doors and made his way before Jarl's throne, but found himself stopped by a mean-looking dark elf in leather armour, sword drawn and ready for a fight.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" she demanded. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

"So I've heard," Atrius replied. "But that's not why I'm here. I have news from Helgen. About the dragon attack."

The Jarl had clearly been half-listening to their exchange. Though he had been speaking to an advisor, he looked over as soon as Atrius mentioned the news about Helgen.

"Who's this then?" he asked, as the dark elf stood aside to let Atrius pass. He came before the Jarl. "So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"The dragon destroyed Helgen. And last I saw it was heading this way."

The Jarl's face turned grim, and he sighed briefly. It occurred to Atrius that, Helgen being not too far from Whiterun, the Jarl may have had friends and family who perished there this morning. But if this was the case, the Jarl kept it to himself.

"Irileth," he said, turning to the dark elf. "It appears you were right."

Jarl Balgruff turned to the advisor he had just been conversing with.

"What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord," Irileth interrupted, "we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger. If that dragon is lurking in the mountains-"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus protested. Atrius sighed internally. He knew all too well the nuances of politics – how one move made innocently could be percieved as aggression by neighbours. As soon as people split themselves into groups, there was no trust between them anymore. Skyrim, it seemed, was no exception.

"Enough!" The Jarl's booming voice interrupted Atrius' musings. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl."

"Well done," the Jarl said, turning back to face Atrius. "You sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it."

It hardly seemed to Atrius that this act had been one of his own initiative seeing as it was Gerdur's idea to speak to the Jarl, but it seemed best to let that go.

"There is something else you could do for me…" the Jarl mused. "Come! Let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons."


	2. Bleak Falls Barrow

**CHAPTER TWO – BLEAK FALLS BARROW**

The Jarl stood and led Atrius past the hall and through to a decent-sized room on the left where a tall and lanky wizard stood leaning over a table full of untidy notes.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill him in with all the details."

It was at this point Atrius began to wonder why he was bothering to help at all, considering he was currently under no one's employment. But warming up to one of Skyrim's Jarl's might just help him when he got back to Cyrodil – as long as he could eventually do what he intended to in crossing the border. But that could wait.

"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" Farengar asked as Balgruuf walked away. It seemed to be less of a question and more of statement. "Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

" _Do they not realise I'm not a sellsword_?" Atrius thought to himself. Sure, he had gotten himself a set of armour and some weaponry along the way when he escaped from Helgen, and his ma had trained him in combat when he was boy, but battle was not his area of expertise. He made a mental note to mention this at some point.

"Just tell me what you need me to do," he said, slightly irritated.

"You are eager to begin your adventure, excellent!" This guy had no idea. "I uh, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow – a Dragonstone, said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet – no doubt interred in the main chamber – and bring it to me. Simplicity itself!"

Farengar seemed like a pretentious dimwit to Atrius, but this was for the Jarl. If it would help the Jarl, it was alright by him. Before leaving Whiterun he stopped to pawn some goods he'd picked up at one of the local merchants. Then it was time to set off to Riverwood.

It was late in the evening by the time he arrived, so Atrius decided to spend the night at the inn before heading out early the next day.

The journey to Bleak Falls Barrow wasn't long, but it was steep, and it appeared that a snowstorm had brewed at the summit of the mountain it was built into. The snow didn't bother Atrius all that much, being a Nord himself, but it did make visibility difficult. This became apparent at the sound of an arrow whizzing past his left ear.

"Argghhh!"

Bandits. Three women were charging towards him, using the height advantage to set up an ambush on anyone who might have trespassed on their territory. Atrius pulled out a warhammer he had taken from the dead at Helgen and prepared to take them on.

He wasn't sure how much combat experience they had, but they were lightly armoured and stupid in battle. The one with the bow insisted on using it, even after Atrius had gotten into close range. She went down easily. The next had a warhammer like him, but left herself wide open to attack. She fell to him. He then ran in a zig-zag motion towards the last archer, who was defeated just as easily as the others.

He stopped to pick up their bows and arrows – they would come in handy where he was going. Then he ascended to the great iron gate that was before him, marking the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow.

The opportunity to try out his new weapons came instantly. The bandits had been part of a larger group, with more having made their way inside. Either they two standing guard did not notice the door open, or they assumed the door-opener was one of their comrades. Either way, they took no notice, and their guard was down. Atrius lined up an arrow to the woman directly ahead. She went down instantly, but her companion was alerted. He pulled out his weapon and started towards Atrius, but being at a distance as he was, he fell before he even got close.

Atrius crossed the foyer of the ruins and came across what looked like a small graveyard.

"What on earth happened here?" he whispered to himself. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, as well as – ah. Skeevers. Atrius smiled in amusement. He was no warrior, but a Skeever ought not to have been a challenge for these bandits. But there they were, having died a fool's death. Still, it did Atrius the service of alerting him to any diseases that might be present in this place. Skeevers were infamous for that. He was careful not to touch any of the corpses as he made his way across the chamber.

Another bandit lay further along into the depths of the ruins. Atrius caught him by surprise on the first arrow, but he was still standing. He wasn't quite sure what happened next, but the hall filled with dust and he couldn't see where the bandit was until he appeared right in front of him at close range. Having an arrow already knocked, he fired the second into the man's heart and killed him. He had gotten a little too close for comfort.

The next room had a gate blocking Atrius from continuing, but it also contained a puzzle. Men's faces with mouths opened wide bearing the images of animals. Atrius recognised these from books his da had lent him as a boy.

"Then nearby there ought to be…ah-ha!"

To his left Atrius discovered short pillars mimicking the carvings on the statues – the key to his puzzle. He remembered the books saying that the display on the pillars needed to match the carvings before the gate would open. He lined them up as so – snake, snake, whale. A lever stood in the center of the room. He pushed forward, but took care to jump out of the way immediately. He knew a wrong answer to the puzzle would likely trigger a trap, and he wasn't 100% confident that the room wouldn't decide to just kill him anyways. True enough though, he had given the correct "password," – the gate sprung upwards with no deadly consequences. He encountered nothing but skeever's for the next little while, until he heard a man's voice calling out.

"Is someone coming? Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?"

"Shut up, man," Atrius growled silently. He figured this idiot must have been part of the bandit's gang. "How did he get past the gate then?"

"I know I ran ahead before, but I need help!"

It was no point trying to stealth this one. Atrius stowed his bow away, but kept his warhammer at the ready just in case. The next doorway was covered in webs. Not just any webs, but strong, thick webs. The kind that only come from…sigh…frostbite spiders.

Atrius took a few swings at the blockage, wishing away the stickiness on his arms and reeling himself for what was about to come. Luck was not on his side – the bandit had not taken out the spider, who was dangling herself from the roof and clicking her orange pincers hungrily. Atrius did not like to get in close, but it appeared it would be a necessary evil if he was to crush her head. When she was dead, he walked over to the source of the sound – a dark elf bandit who had been strung up in the spider's web and kept for a later meal.

"You did it, you killed it," he gasped. "Now cut me down before anything else shows up."

"And just who are you to be giving orders?" Atrius asked.

"I have the golden claw!"

"The golden what now?"

"The gol – isn't that what you're here for? To get to the hidden treasure?" The elf asked. "It's blocked by an ancient puzzle, but you'll never solve it without the claw!"

Atrius shook his head in disbelief. They came into an infested ruin looking for _treasure_? Surely getting a real job would've saved these bandits time, energy, and their lives if only they'd put the same amount of effort into work as they did into avoiding work.

"Well, I know how it works!" the elf continued. "The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories – I know how they all fit together! Help me down and I'll show you!"

"Fine," Atrius said, taking pity on him. "Let me see if I can get you down."

He pulled at the web until the elf dropped to the ground.

"You'd better be grateful," he muttered.

"You fool…why should I share the treasure with anyone?" The dark elf had attempted to pull a fast one and tried to run off, but Atrius was quicked. He brought his warhammer up and back down on the elf's skull before he'd gotten out of range.

"You had that coming," he said, as the lifeblood drained from the dying elf's mouth. Atrius bent down and searched the elf for the item he claimed to have been in the possession of – the golden claw. He pocketed it. Atrius wasn't sure if he would actually need it later on, but he figured he would rather take it and not need it than have to come back for it later. Besides, he was almost certain the claw had been stolen from someone.

In the next section of the ruins he spotted something lying in the walls – draugr. He was almost certain it was still alive. He'd read about those, too. Draugr sometimes lay in the walls, pretending to be dead so that they might get the jump on unsuspecting passers-by. It was too bad that Atrius was not unsuspecting.

He lined up an arrow and shot. That one hit its mark, but it alerted the others to his presence. He heard them shifting from their places, drawing their weapons. One more was brought down, but another seemed quite unsure as to where Atrius was lurking. He stumbled around for a bit when suddenly there was a loud CRASH, along with the sound of a dull thud and brittle bones breaking. Atrius wandered up a little to find the last draugr lying dead on the ground. Apparently it had set off a spiked-door trap in it's confusion.

"They never were known for their intelligence."Careful to avoid the trap himself lest his pride make a fool out of him, Atrius continued on.

The next hour or so was much of the same – draugr lined the halls of the ruins, easily falling to Atrius' marksmanship. One arrow to wake them, the next to kill. Wake, kill, wake, kill. On and on it went until he came to a hall with murals carved into the walls.

"This must have been what the bandit meant when he mentioned the hall of stories."

The walls contained detailed images of great battles, both famed and the unknown. At the end of the hall was an iron barrier with a place for a three-pronged key in the centerpiece.

"And this must be what this is for…"

Atrius pulled the claw out of his pocket and examined it carefully, squatting for a moment beneath the torchlight. The three claws stuck outwards – presumably to fit into the holes – and there were animals also engraved into it.

"Figures. I guess if anything we Nords are consistent."

The door apeared to work in a similar fashion to the gate Atrius had previously encountered. The animal carvings on the door must match up with the animals corresponding to the claw. Atrius pressed the uppermost button tentatively. It shifted in a clockwise motion.

"Owl. No…that's not what I'm looking for."

He pressed once again.

"A bear! There we are…bear, dragonfly, owl. And the key…"

As soon as he inserted the claw and twisted, the door sprang to life. It moved downward steadily, the stone slab disappearing into the floor, revealing the next part of the ruin which lead into what looked like an underground cavern.

It was a wide space. Atrius stowed his bow away – there was no one around. He made his way across the cavern to a stone platform. A wall stood in front of him. Strangely enough, it appeared to chant. It called to him, he knew it was for him, but he couldn't explain why. He was drawn to it. Some sort of wind enveloped him as he grew closer. It felt like a breath of fresh air, and he felt…empowered.

As inexplicable as it was, Atrius has no time to dwell, for the sound of a sarcophagus breaking open behind him only meant one thing - draugr. The creature pulled itself up, but for some reason it didn't put up much of a fight.

"Perhaps you were tired of being in this world," Atrius contemplated, stowing away his warhammer. He remembered the task he had been given – the dragonstone. According to Farenger, he ought to find it here. This was the main chamber, was it not? He looked around in vain before heading back to the fallen draugr he had killed a short while ago.

"Of course," he whispered in success, pulling the dragonstone out of the draugr's chest. It has been using the stone for protection – thankfully Atrius' swings had missed that part of the draugr, or he might've had a bit of explaining to do when he got back to Dragonsreach. Stowing away the dragonstone in similar fashion, he found the exit out of the cavern and headed back to Whiterun.

It was dark by the time Atrius reached the palace, and he was growing quickly tired. He walked through the doors of Dragonsreach and stumbled over to Farengar's working station. He was talking with a hooded figure when Atrius interrupted.

"I have your dragonstone," he said, handing it over.

"Ah, seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way!" Farengar seemed delighted.

"What next?" Atrius asked.

"That is where your job ends and mine begins – the work of the mind! Sadly undervalued in Skyrim…"

For the first time it seemed Atrius was pleased to hear the words coming out of Farengar's mouth. He was in the mood for a bottle of mead and warm bed.

"Farengar!"

Irileth appeared in the doorway, breathless.

"You need to come at once – a dragon's been sighted nearby!"


	3. Dragon Rising

**CHAPTER THREE – DRAGON RISING**

"A dragon's been sighted nearby!" At Irileth's words Atrius tried desperately to slink into the shadows and try to escape notice. Irileth, however, spotted him."You should come too."

Atrius groaned inside, and followed Irileth through the Jarl's palace.

"A dragon! How exciting – where was it seen? What was it doing?" At least Farengar was not disappointed by the news.

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you," Irileth reprimanded him. "If a dragon attacks Whiterun…" she trailed off. "Well, I don't know if we can stop it." She led them up a set of stairs where Jarl Balgruuf was waiting, presumably disturbed from his night time retreat. Atrius knew only too well that a leader is never off duty – not even in their own private quarters.

"Irileth – you'd better get some guardsmen and get down to the western watchtower," Balgruuf ordered. "Apparently that's where the dragon was sighted."

"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." For all Irileth's paranoia, Atrius had to give her some respect for this moment – she had clearly stayed calm and taken the initiative on what to do next. It's no wonder she reported to Balgruuf directly.

"Good," Balgruuf responded. "Don't fail me."

It could've been taken as an order, but was there…compassion Atrius heard in the Jarl's voice? He didn't have time to think about it now.

"There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend. I need your help again."

Balgruuf had called Atrius his friend. This boded well.

"I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon.

"Wa-wait, what?" Atrius stammered. "You do understand I'm not a warrior, right? I'm a politician, I grew up in the Imperial City. Besides the events of the last two days, I have no real combat experience. I'll die out there!"

"You've handled yourself so far!" Balgruuf shouted him down. "There's something about you…like the gods have chosen you for something, though I do not know why. Besides – you survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here."

" _As if running aimlessly through a burning city and miraculously escaping through an underground tunnel counts as experience_ ," Atrius thought to himself.

"But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the dragonstone for Farengar," Balgruuf stated. Atrius was quite sure this wasn't a good time for thanks and gestures, but it seemed the Jarl was bent on it. "As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Proventus Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city."

"Right. Thanks," Atrius said, secretly wondering what good his Whiterun citizenship was worth when he was likely to be dead by dawn.

"Guess that warm bed is going to have to wait," Atrius said to Irileth as they walked back down the stairs.

"So it seems," Irileth agreed. "I'll collect the soldiers on standby from the gate. You go on and scout ahead – we'll join up with you shortly."

"Right."

It had started to rain. There was no sound of a dragon nearby, but Atrius already knew from experience that the roaring doesn't usually begin until it's right on top of you. He pulled out his bow as he ran along the cobbled path. He wasn't sure if any arrow was enough to pierce dragon's hide, but it was going to have to do. As he got closer he saw flames and smoke billowing from the tower, now obviously in ruins. The dragon had already been here.

"No! Get back!" a voice called out. A Whiterun guard appeared from the ruins he'd taken shelter in, too frightened to leave. "It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it."

An unmistakeable roar sounded off in the distance.

"Kynareth save us…here he comes again!"

" _Dammit Irileth, where are you?_ " Atrius said to himself as the dragon approached. She was meant to be here by now with the other guards.

Atrius lined up an arrow – the dragon was still a ways off, but approaching rapidly. He fired one off and missed. A second one – missed.

"You'll die this day, dragon!"

Atrius almost laughed in relief as he heard Irileth and the other Whiterun soldiers appearing. He might die today, but at least now he wouldn't die alone. The dragon roared and continued to circle the sky. Atrius fired arrow after arrow and couldn't get a clear shot – the thing was just too fast. Finally the dragon landed and Atrius was able fire at will. It seemed he wasn't the only one taking advantage of this opportunity, as a hailstorm of arrows went flying towards the dragon. It roared in pain before letting out a blast of fire. Two soldiers burned to death, but at least they knew one thing now – the dragon wasn't impenetrable.

Even so, the scene was still chaotic. Smoke billowed everywhere in the already dark sky, keeping the dragon well camoflaged in the air. All Atrius could do was wait for it to stop moving or hope that a lucky stray arrow would hit its mark. Two more guards were set on fire. Finally, the dragon landed on the ground somewhere close to Atrius. He took his chance – tossing his bow aside, he took out his warhammer, sprinted close, and swung at the dragon. A hit! The eye was smashed into it's skull, and it let out one more pathetic cry before its long neck came crashing to the ground. There was a moment of triump – but suddenly the dragon was glowing, as if it were ready to explode.

"Everybody get back!" Irileth roared.

Atrius wasn't fast enough. Tendrils of smoke engulfed him and his skin was burning – but then it wasn't. The sensation was gone as quickly as it had come. He fell to his knees to regain his bearings as the other guards drew closer, staring at him in awe.

"I can't believe it. You're Dragonborn!" One of the guards exclaimed as he helped Atrius back on his feet.

"I'm a…I'm a what?" Atrius stammered.

"A Dragonborn! In the very oldest tales from back when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it?

"I don't know what happened to me," Atrius said. He just wanted to go home.

"Well you can shout now. You couldn't shout before, right?" the guard asked.

"Of course I could shout, everyone can shout."

"No, not a normal shout like we do when we're mad or in battle!" the guard exclaimed. "A dragonborn shout! Go on…give it a go."

Come to it, Atrius could feel a force in his belly – like something wanting to burst out of him and be unleashed. He relaxed and let it rise to the surface, hoping to Talos it wasn't just him wanting to vomit.

"FUS!"

A force that came from him nearly knocked him backwards, blew through the field and sent bits of broken tower flying. The guards continued to look at Atrius as if he were some sort of Dibellan-sized sweetroll. Irileth, however, did not seem as impressed.

"Dragonborn or not," she spoke, "here's a dead dragon, and that's something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them."

"You wouldn't understand, housecarl," a guard said. "You ain't a Nord."

Atrius was sure that guard was about to get the biggest dressing-down of his life, but it seemed that the statement touched on Irileth's pride too much to let it go.

"Hmph! I'll have you know I've been all across Tamriel, and I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this! I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends. Come!" she ordered. "Let's report back to the Jarl."

"No, I've had enough for one day," Atrius protested. He had already made the mistake of going back to Dragonsreach once tonight and ended up fighting a dragon on an empty tank. He didn't want to find out what would happen next.

"Look, Irileth, these men are yours, but I'm a free man. I'm going to camp right here at the watchtower for the night and I'll talk to Balgruuf in the morning. I'm tired and I'm not walking another step."

"Suit yourself," Irileth shrugged. "But you'll be sleeping in the rain."

"I do not care," Atrius said, as he pulled out a sleeping roll and trudged off to find shelter in the ruins.

It was still morning by the time Atrius reached Whiterun. Whatever rain he had been unable to shelter from that night had evaporated in the heat of the early day. He passed through the gates of the city when a voice boomed across the sky.

"DOVAHKIIN!"

"What was that…" some of the townspeople murmured. Everyone appeared quite startled for a bit, but soon the city resumed the usual buzz of trade and chatter. Atrius had to admire them for that. Nothing shook these people.

As he made his way up through the districts he noticed that the guards were whispering as he passed. Rumours must already be spreading – and Atrius didn't even know if he believed it himself yet. Relief was etched across Balgruuf's face when Atrius came into sight.

"Irileth filled me in – what happened at the watchtower? The guards have been talking."

"I've noticed," said Atrius. "Something happened and I don't know how to explain it. When the dragon died, I absorbed some kind of…power from it."

"So it's true" Balgruuf said in awe. "The greybeards really were summoning you!"

Atrius wished they'd all stop looking at him like that. He just wanted to do what he came here to do and then go back to Cyrodiil. He didn't want to be anyone's sellsword, and he certainly didn't want to be anyone's Dragonborn.

"The Greybeards?"

"Masters of the Way of the Voice!" said Balgruuf. "They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World. It's a place called High Hrothgar – you can only get there by passing through Ivarstead."

"What do these Greybeards want with me?" Atrius asked.

"If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift."

Excellent, Atrius thought. All he had to do was go and see these Greybeards, and then they would tell him he wasn't Dragonborn and he could put an end to this nonsense. Then everyone could leave him alone and he and everyone else would go back to being happily-ever-after. Here was his out.

"You've done a great service for me and my city Dragonborn!" Atrius had heard that line before… "by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun! I assign you Lydia as a personal housecarl."

A young woman with jet black hair and armed in steel stepped forward to greet Atrius.

"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl," she said. "It's an honour to serve you."


	4. The Way of the Voice

**CHAPTER FOUR – THE WAY OF THE VOICE**

The first time Atrius got to see Lydia in combat was against a pack of wolves on the way to Ivarstead. It wasn't much, but he could see that she handled herself decently enough – better than he did himself. In truth, he was grateful to have a trained companion along for the journey with him, although he wasn't quite sure what would happen with her once this was all done and dusted. Was she just going to follow him around forever? He wasn't worried about having to provide for her – he might be a little light on coin right now, but once he got back to Cyrodiil Atrius would have his entire fortune at his disposal. No, he was more curious about how this arrangement was supposed to work, if Lydia was something more of a hired hand or an actual honest-to-goodness personal servant bound to him for the rest of her days.

Having left shortly after their introduction, the pair of them rolled into Ivarstead late that same afternoon. The mountain looming over them – the one High Hrothgar stood atop – was waiting and ready. It could be tackled tomorrow.

"Look, here's an inn," Atrius mentioned to Lydia. "I think we should call it a day, do you agree?"

Lydia nodded her approval and they made their way into the wooden building. It was like the inns in Cyrodiil – a little more open-planned, maybe, but just as comfortable and even more welcoming. He ordered them dinner and drink, and they sat by the fire that lit up the centre of the inn.

"So tell me, Lydia," Atrius began, as he handed her a bottle of ale. "How does this housecarl contract work? Do you stay with me for a short amount of time, or until I cross back over the border?"

"No, my Thane," she responded, taking a swig from the bottle given to her. "I'm bound in service to you for the rest of your days – or mine, should I meet my maker before you. I mean, you are free to release me from my services, but it would be a mark of serious dishonour upon me. Housecarls are usually only released when their masters are severely displeased with them. I would be shunned by all. It would be better for me to die in your service."

"Huh," Atrius replied. This would be interesting, then. "So why do it then? Why become a housecarl and live your life in total servitude? What about your family or making a life for yourself?"

"I…I have no family," Lydia conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," she dismissed him. "It's the way of all housecarls. Most of us were orphaned when we were too young to remember. We're raised in the hold and prepared for this service. It's all we know. Our entire life builds up to the moment we're assigned an honoured person to serve. The best day of our lives is the day that happens – it's almost like a marriage."

It sounded dead depressing to Atrius, but then again, he had led a life entirely different to Lydia's under entirely different social contracts. Who knows what his priorities might have become if he'd been in the same position?

"Well, I hope I can be good to you and make you worthy of that joy," he smiled at her.

"I'll drink to that," she replied, taking another sip of her ale and cupping it in both hands. "So what about you? I mean no disrepsect, but it's clear you're not from around here despite your heritage. Were you raised outside Skyrim?"

"I was. My ma and da – both were natives of this land. Before I was born, my da was assigned as a Nord delegate to Cyrodiil. He represented the matters and cares of our people before the Emperor. So they set off for the Imperial City. He was good at his job, and they never returned."

He paused for moment, sighing and setting his drink aside and staring into the flames before him.

"I was raised to follow in his footsteps. The Imperial City offers some of the best and most specialised education, particularly for children born to high class citizens. I learned all the different languages of each race, the ins-and-outs of politics. My ma was once a warrior before she settled down – she taught me how to swing a sword. She died in childbirth just as I was beginning to become a man. My little sister never made it either."

"That must've been hard."

"It was." He continued. "Anyways, da was always there. I stayed strong for him, and he stayed strong for me. His own time came not long ago. Old age. But before he went, he gave me his amulet."

Atrius pulled from around his neck a golden necklace with a small carving of a dragon, crystals in the place of its eyes.

"It was my ma's wedding gift to him, no other like it," he said, tucking the necklace back under his armour. "He knew Talos worship had been outlawed in Cyrodiil, but he still believed. He knew he couldn't come back to Skyrim himself with his health or give the amulet to anyone else. His dying wish was for me to return to Skyrim in his stead and place his amulet at a shrine of Talos. Then he knew the gods would be pleased with him, and he could rest in peace.

"And that's why you're here?" Lydia asked.

"That's why I'm here. But then, that whole nonsense with the Imperial ambush happened. Gods, I had no idea what was happening when they grabbed me. Turns out they thought I was with the Stormcloaks. Fools, I didn't even look the part!" Atrius shook his head with annoyance. "Then that dragon attacked, I got involved somehow, and…well, that was three days ago. Here we are. Off to see these Greybeards. Hopefully they can be the ones to put an end to this Dragonborn business. I know I got lucky twice with a dragon, but this isn't the life I expected to lead."

"And what will you do if you really are the Dragonborn?" Lydia enquired.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "Go home, I suppose. What difference does it make whether I am or not?"

"It makes all the difference all the world!" Lydia exclaimed. "Do you know how long it's been since dragons and Dragonborn roamed Skyrim? People were beginning to think they were myths, tales told to children. But now they've both come back in the space of three days – do you know what this could mean? It could be the end of the world, it could a blessing from the gods to restore Talos worship and bring us back to the old ways…"

"Or, it could just be nothing except that the dragons have decided to come out into the open after a really long time," Atrius suggested. "Why don't we get some sleep, huh? We'll see what these Greybeards think in the morning."

"Yeah," Lydia said as she got up to go to her room. "Although, I think it's strange you still want to go and see the Greybeards if it really makes no difference to you."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Atrius to think that maybe he really was just wasting his time taking this little detour.

"Still," he said to himself. "If I can get this cleared up, maybe everyone can stop expecting things of me."

And with that, he followed Lydia's lead and went to get a good nights rest.

They left soon after breakfast the next morning, but were barely out of the village when they overheard the exchange of two men nearby.

"On your way up the 7,000 steps again, Klimmek?"

"Not today. I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path isn't safe."

"What makes you say that?" Atrius asked, as he and Lydia approached the men at the foot of a large stone bridge. "I'm Atrius," he added, extending a hand towards the second man, a balding Nord.

"Klimmek," the man said, as he shook with Atrius. "I've been making regular deliveries to the Greybeards for years now. Mostly food supplies, like dried fish and salted meats, you know – things that keep fresh for a long time. Trouble is, my legs aren't what they used to be, and climbing the 7,000 steps takes its toll. I'm having trouble fending off the wolves and occasional ice wraith that you'll sometimes encounter. Can't recommend getting old to anyone."

"We were just on our way up," Atrius told him. "If you have those supplies, I'd be happy to take them on your behalf."

"Really? That would be kind of you. I should warn you though – the Greybeards don't get out much. I wouldn't expect them to respond if you tried to turn the delivery into a social call. I usually just drops the goods and leave – trust me, you don't want to get on their bad side."

He handed a bag over to Atrius, who promptly swung it over his shoulder and across his chest.

"Watch your footing once you get close to the summit. Snow and ice can make the climb as hazardous as any creature," Klimmek warned the pair.

"Thank you, we will."

It appeared Klimmek was right about the occasional wolf pack. Atrius and Lydia had to make quick work of them more than once. Aside from that and a couple of pilgrims along the way, the rest of the climb was rather quiet and uneventful. It wasn't until they'd nearly reached High Hrothgar that anything interesting happened.

"Oooff," Atrius heard from somewhere behind him, as well as the sound of a body falling to the ground.

"You alright, Lydia?" he asked, as Lydia picked herself up and dusted the snow off her armour.

"Yeah," she replied. "I guess Klimmek wasn't kidding about the ice."

"Guess not."

"OOORROAHHHH!"

Atrius snapped his head around to see where the sound had come from – a frost troll! It was just as well Lydia had slipped and alerted it to their presence – otherwise, disguised in this snow, they may have very well walked right past it.

"Cover for me!" he called out, pulling out his warhammer and charging the creature.

Swing, swing. Two hits. The troll staggered for a moment before whaling back at Atrius, claws slicing through the unguarded flesh at his side. He gasped momentarily before getting his bearings and bringing the warhammer back down on the frost troll. It roared in pain as its left shoulder dislocated, but the pain only served to make it even more angry. Its right arm hit its mark at the side of Atrius' head. He fell onto his back, the troll swimming above him. Through his pain and blurred vision Atrius watched as it raised its arm again, helpless to defend himself. But at that moment a perfectly placed arrow pierced the troll's throat. It stumbled back, blood gurgling from its mouth before it collapsed onto the ground, unmoving.

Atrius closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted, and opened them again to see Lydia kneeling over him, rummaging through her bag.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she scolded him, pulling out a red vial.

"Drink," she ordered, placing one hand behind his head to raise it, the other placing the vial to his lips.

"I'm your housecarl, I'm sworn to protect you with my life," she continued as he gulped the potion down. "You should've stayed behind and let me take the lead!"

"I didn't have time to think," Atrius groaned, leaning his head back into the snow. "I just moved. Anyways, housecarl or not, I'm not going to let you die for me if I can help it."

"You're lucky _you're_ not dead."

He winced and cried out as she undid the buckles of his iron armour.

"Shh," she whispered. "I need to stop this blood, do you have any animal pelts?"

"Yeah, in my bag," Atrius coughed. "I thought this healing potion was supposed to kick in?"

"It will," Lydia replied, pulling out a small fox pelt and tying it around his chest where the bleeding was the worst. "But you've been hurt bad. It'll take a while to work, but this is still much quicker than natural recovery. Do you know any healing spells? That might speed the process along."

Atrius shook his head.

"Always sucked at magic. The only thing I was ever halfway decent at was enchanting. Absolutely no talent for anything else."

"I guess that makes you true Nord," Lydia huffed as she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him underneath a large rock crevice in the side of the mountain. "We'll have to spend the day here. You should be fine come tomorrow."

"I'm sure we're nearly there, Lydia," Atrius argued.

"I don't care," she said sternly. "I'm not letting you back on your feet until you're healed and I'm not dragging you the rest of the way either. It's one day, be patient."

They spent that night under the rock crevice. Lydia made a fire and cooked for them. It was just as well they were both Nords, or they might have frozen to death.

"How are you feeling?" Lydia asked him after breakfast the next morning.

"I'm not in any pain," Atrius replied.

"Let me see your wounds."

She crawled over to where he was sitting and pulled back the pelt which was now caked in dried blood. They were both relieved to find the wounds closed over – not a scar remaining.

"Is that satisfactory?" Atrius asked as she looked him over.

"Satisfactory," Lydia confirmed, prodding him in the side. "If you're well, then we should be on our way. We don't want to keep the Greybeards waiting."

"Agreed."

They arrived at the monastery before the hour was up. Remembering to drop off the supplies Klimmek had given to him first, Atrius then headed to the tall doors and knocked.

"No answer," he muttered, pushing the door open and making his way inside.

"This is….wow," Lydia breathed as they entered the room. It was a sight to see. Banners, cold stone, and candles lighted their way. There was an air about this place – it was something sacred. A dark-robed figure approached them and the voice of an elderly man called out to Atrius.

"So, a Dragonborn appears at this moment, at the turning of the age."

Atrius' heart sunk in his chest. So it seemed everyone was right.

"You call me a Dragonborn," he sighed. "What does that mean?"

"That is for you to discover," the man replied. "We can show you the way, but not your destination. You have shown that you are a Dragonborn when you absorbed a dragon's soul. Without training you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your voice into a Thu'um – a shout. You have the inborn gift."

Atrius wondered just what all-seeing eye this man had to possess to possibly know the events of details that happened somewhere a near two-days walk away.

"And who are you?" he asked. "Why did you summon me here?"

"We are the Greybeards." Three other robed figures had appeared from the shadows of the room. "I am master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. This is master Einarth, master Borri, and master Wulfgar. We are honoured to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift. High Hrothgar is open to you."

Atrius had initially wondered what teaching he could possibly need when shouting came to him so naturally, but it seemed there was more to it than he first thought. Understanding the meaning of different words of power went a long way in improving their effectiveness. Atrius and Lydia stayed a week under the Greybeard's hospitality and tutelage. By the end of that week, Atrius had already mastered two more words of power.

"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is astonishing," Arngeir said to him at the end of his last training session. "I'd heard the stories and abilities of the Dragonborn, but to see it for myself…"

"I don't know how I do it," Atrius shrugged. "It just happens."

"You were given this gift by the gods for a reason. It is up to you to figure out how best to use it. You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."

Atrius wasn't sure exactly how respectful it would be to desecrate the tomb of a clearly important man to steal one of his personal belongings, but he was sure the Greybeards had a reason for making such a bizarre task his rite of passage into…well, whatever it was he was supposed to become.

"Before I go, I have a question to ask," he said as they trudged through the snow in the courtyard back to the monastery. "Why are the dragons returning? Does it have something to do with me?"

He had been thinking about the things Lydia had said to him back in Ivarstead. He had to agree that it was definitely a strange coincidence, even if he didn't necessarily want to admit it.

"No doubt," Arngeir nodded. "The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons."

Really? What was that supposed to be, an educated guess?

"You should focus on honing your voice," he continued, "and soon your path will be made clear."

"Surely there's more you can tell me," Atrius pressed him, but this seemed to annoy the Greybeard in question.

"There is indeed much we know that you do not! That does not mean that you are ready to understand it! Do not let your easy mastery of the Voice tempt you into the arrogance of power that has been the downfall of many a Dragonborn before you," Arngeir warned him.

Atrius sighed to himself. It irritated him when all these sage-types began to read pride and arrogance into every motive. Did it occur to this man that maybe he was just a bit freaked out about what was going to happen next and that he might end up having to lose the only life he's ever known? Did the other Dragonborns before him have to leave behind everything to follow some vague and obscure destiny? Atrius was annoyed – but he also had a task to complete. At least he could put on foot in front of the other for now and focus on the problem at hand: getting that horn.


	5. The Horn of Jurgen Windcaller

**CHAPTER FIVE – THE HORN OF JURGEN WINDCALLER**

It took them three days to reach Ustengrav, inclusive of quick stopovers in Whiterun and Morthal. Both Atrius and Lydia were thankful for the opportunity to replenish their supplies, having run a little short during their extended stay at High Hrothgar. They had been careful not to draw attention to themselves at this time – although the existence of a Dragonborn was fast becoming common knowledge, Atrius' identity had mercifully remained secret. Still, it amused him when he heard the guards talking amongst themselves, some wondering if they were the Dragonborn and currently unaware of it.

From Morthal, the road to Ustengrav would stray off the beaten path and lead them through the marshlands. The creatures they could handle – it was the smell that got to them. They were almost thankful to be charging headfirst into likely danger when they descended the stone stairs and came to the door of the tomb.

"Let me in before I puke…" Lydia moaned.

"You know there's likely not going to be any fresh air down here," Atrius informed her.

"Anything has to be better than…oh, damn."

A troubling sight greeted the two of them as they made their way inside – bodies. Atrius bent down to examine the first one.

"His skin…it's been burned…"

"Mages, do you think?"

Atrius pulled out his bow and crept forward.

"Yeah. Yeah, I see one."

It was faint, but he could just make out the figure of a darkly cloaked woman a ways ahead. She hadn't noticed them come in. He lined up an arrow and released. Instant death.

"These mages may be tricky," he said, continuing on, "but if we catch them by surprise we should be alright. Most of them aren't big on armour. Let's keep this one quiet."

Lydia nodded her approval. "Looks like they tangoed with a bunch of bandits. If they're still around, I'm guessing the bandits lost."

"That's good news for us," Atrius replied, stepping over another bandit's body. "Hopefully if they've been fighting amonst themselves there'll be less of them for us to deal with."

They crept their way through the halls, more bodies lining the ground as they went. Suddenly they began to hear the sounds of battle close by.

"They've found the draugr!" Lydia hissed, grabbing Atrius by the collar and pulling him back into the shadows.

Flashes of lightning went forth from the mage. He had his back to Atrius and hadn't seen him, but the draugr had. Atrius lined up one arrow whilst the draugr was distracted and let loose. It caught him, but it was Lydia's second arrow that took it down. A second draugr had killed the mage, but this one was also made easy work of.

"You ever think about stuff like that?" Lydia asked him, stowing her bow away. "Their fighting made it easier for us to take them out. I don't know, it's just interesting how with the civil conflict going on right now…it's like I'm just waiting for the Thalmor to pounce."

"Don't mean to be rude Lydia, but I don't really feel like discussing the art of war right now. We have our own battles right in front of us to worry about."

"Yes, my Thane."

That had appeared to be the last of the mages – the only thing Atrius and Lydia found further in the depths of the tomb were a few haphazard draugr. They were no challenge to the pair of them.

Before long they found the way ahead of them barred – but the gate was strange. It responded if one of them stood in front of one of a set of pillars, but there were three gates. They quickly worked out that each pillar corresponded to a gate – standing near one would trigger the mechanism to lift.

"But that doesn't help us," Lydia complained, giving up and sitting on a nearby rock.

They couldn't stand in front of the pillars all at once, and even if they could, the gates would shut again as soon as they walked away. It was then that Atrius remembered what Arngeir had said to him.

" _Stay true to the way of the voice…_ "

"Lydia, stand here a second," he ordered. She took her place in a perfect position to activate two of the pillars.

"Yeah?" she asked. "What now?"

"Just wait."

Atrius positioned himself in front of the third. All the gates were now opened. He knew he only had a small window of time to make this work.

"WULD!"

His shout sent him sprinting forth faster then any man or beast. It was one the Greybeards had taught him. He wondered if he would ever have a use for it, but it seemed to have come in handy this one time. Before he knew it the three gates were behind him. Without his presence at the pillar the last gate dropped again. Atrius found a lever on the wall and pulled, permanently removing all the gates from obstruction and allowing Lydia to have free passage.

"How did you know to do that?" she asked once she'd crossed over to the other side.

"The Greybeards told me."

"They did?" she said, surprised. "Huh…I guess they're more helpful than we thought."

Traps and spiders lay ahead, but Atrius had already had his first run in with the joys of Nordic ruins. It wasn't long befor they reached a large room, a tomb taking place of priority, the path towards it surrounded by water. This had to be it.

"Whoah!"

At their intrusion the room seemed to shake all around them like an earthquake. Except that something was also rising from the waters – large stone pillars.

"I've never seen anything quite like that…" Lydia whispered in awe.

They continued on once the shaking had stopped and reached a platform on which lay the tomb – presumably the tomb belonging to Jurgen Windcaller.

"Do you think the horn would've been buried on his person?" Atrius pondered.

"No..." Lydia trailed off, examining a carved stone hand reaching up from the tomb. "See this? This looks like it would've held something."

But all the hand held was a note. Atrius took the note and read it aloud.

"Dragonborn: I need to speak to you. Urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I'll meet you. Signed, a Friend."

"Weird…you think they were here?" Lydia asked him.

"They must have been," Atrius replied, scrunching up the note and placing it in his pocket. "Whoever it is – I'm betting they have the horn."

"Do you think we should meet with them?"

"I don't see why not. We met with the Greybeards after all, and it didn't harm us any."

It was dark by the time they left the tomb, but they were still left with enough light to make it back to Morthal.

"What I don't understand is this," Atrius began as they sat by the fireplace chewing on adequately cooked rabbit leggs. "I needed to use my shouts to even get into that room – how could someone else have gotten there before me?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's another Dragonborn out there looking to join forces," Lydia suggested.

"But even if there was, why wouldn't the Greybeards have summoned them?"

Lydia laughed at him.

"Maybe they did. Maybe they just wanted to see who would grab that horn first and you failed."

"Shut up," Atrius said as Lydia continued to chuckle at him.

They arrived in Riverwood two days later. The Sleeping Giant Inn was quite, but busy enough for Atrius to remain fairly incognito. Nobody was hassling him about being the Dragonborn, which he appreciated. Spotting an older woman sweeping the floor, he approached her and asked her for what he'd been directed to.

"I'd like to rent the attic room."


	6. A Blade in the Dark

**CHAPTER SIX – A BLADE IN THE DARK**

The woman eyed Atrius carefully and suspiciously, her light blue eyes piercing into his.

"Attic room, ey? Well…we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left."

"Uhh…no, you don't understand," Atrius protested. "We really need the attic room."

Glancing at Lydia, he hoped to the gods that statement didn't sound as bad to the innkeeper as it did to him. He saw Lydia stifle a smirk.

"I'll sort it out for you," the innkeeper replied. "How about you take the one on the left for now until we can work this out?"

"Fine."

Atrius handed over the gold and he and Lydia made their way into the cramped room the innkeeper had suggested. They both sat down on the single bed to discuss.

"She said they don't have an attic room," Atrius whispered. "Is this a joke, what if the person who left the note doesn't figure out where I am?"

Suddenly the door swung open without so much as a knock, and the innkeeper reappeared.

"I don't know if this is all a big mistake-" Atrius began, but she cut across him.

"So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about."

"Wha- how did you know?"

"I think you're looking for this." She reached her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small object – the horn of Jurgen Windcaller!

"We need to talk," the woman said to him. "Follow me."

She led them out the door and across to the other side of the inn over to a large room with a double-bed.

"Shut the door," she ordered him once they were inside.

Once he had done so, she opened the door to the closet against the wall of the room and pressed something inside of it. The back wall sprung to life and revealed a secret passageway into another downstairs room.

"Now we can talk."

She crossed the room and pulled up a pair of chairs, directing them to sit as she leaned over a table full of maps and books in front of her.

"The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right."

"You're the one who took the horn?" Atrius asked her in astonishment.

"Surprised?" she said with a chuckle. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act."

"What's with all the cloak and dagger?"

"You can't be too careful," she responded. "Thalmor spies are everywhere."

"I don't know what this has to do with the Thalmor," Atrius told her. "I just came here for the horn."

"I'm not your enemy," she sighed. "I already gave you the horn, I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

"Go on, I'm listening," Atrius replied.

"Like I said in my note," she continued, "I heard that you might be Dragonborn. I'm part of a group that's been looking for you for a very long time.

"Why are you looking for a Dragonborn?" he asked.

"We remember what most don't – that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?"

"Yes, that's how I first learned I was Dragonborn," Atrius answered her.

"Good," the woman stated, rolling up the map in front of her. "You'll have a chance to prove it to me soon enough.

"Hang on a second – why did you take the horn from Ustengrav?" Atrius questioned her. Clearly she had no need for it herself.

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable. When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent and not some Thalmor plant."

"So what's the part you're not telling me?"

"Dragons aren't just coming back," the woman answered as she opened up a chest and pulled out a set of leather armour. "They're coming back to life. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back, and I need you to help me stop it."

"What makes you think dragons are coming back to life?"

"I know they are," she said, waving the map she was holding. "I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If you succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Great," Atrius sighed. More dragons. "Where are we headed?"

"Kynesgrove. There's an ancient dragon burial mound near there. If we can get there before it happens, maybe we'll learn how to stop it."

They learned that the woman's name was Delphine, and she was eager to leave as soon as possible. For this plan to work, they needed to make it to the burial mound before the dragon woke up. Delphine arranged for the three of them to travel on horseback so that they could make good timing. They made as if they were heading north towards Windhelm, but stopped short and before travelling east to a small settlement just south of the great city. They had nearly arrived at Kynesgrove when a frightened woman came running in their direction.

"No, you don't want to go up there!" she yelled out to them. "A dragon – it's attacking!"

"Where's this dragon?" Delphine asked her.

"Where's – are you insane?" she screamed. "It flew over the town and landed on the old dragon burial mound. I don't know what it's doing up there, but I'm not waiting around to find out!"

And with that, she took off in the opposite direction.

"Come on!" Delphine yelled, charging ahead of them. "We're going to miss it if we don't hurry!"

The trio sprinted to the top of the hill where they found a dark dragon circling over a large mound of rocks and dirt. It was…talking. In some kind of strange language that Atrius had never heard before.

"Take cover!" Delphine hissed to Atrius, pulling him back behind a large boulder.

There was a boom in the sky. Over his shoulder Atrius saw rocks go flying past the boulder, and he felt the reverberations of others making contact. If Delphine hadn't grabbed him, he probably would've been knocked out.

Once the air was clear he looked over his shoulder once more – a dragon was appearing from the ground, but it hadn't taken off yet. It was still getting its bearings. This was their chance!

Charging forward, Atrius, Lydia, and Delphine reached the dragon before it knew what was happening. They pulled out their weapons and began their assault. Delphine got the head and skilfully dodged its flame and powerful jaws, but its tail was just as deadly, thrashing around and thumping the ground in an attempt to get away from Atrius' and Lydia's thrusting of steel and other metals. It was all a bit of a blur – Atrius wasn't sure who got the final blow in, but the dragon went down with a roar, and that familiar glow began to light up its body.

"Gods above!" he heard Delphine exclaim.

Atrius didn't try to run this time – when the dragon's soul came flooding over him, he embraced it like an old friend.

"I owe you some answers, don't I?" He opened his eyes to see Delphine smiling at him. "Go ahead – whatever you want to know. Nothing held back."

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" he asked.

"I'm one of the last members of the Blades."

"The Blades?" Atrius had heard about them growing up. They had protected the emperor until the events of the Oblivion crisis. Then there was no need for them…or so he thought. "I thought you were all gone?"

Delphine shook her head.

"A very long time ago, the Blades were dragonslayers, and we served the Dragonborn. For the last two hundred years since the last Dragonborn emperor the Blades have been searching for a purpose. Now that the dragons are coming back again, our purpose is clear. We need to stop them."

"What do you know about the dragons coming back?"

"Not a damn thing," she said, kicking a pebble in front of her at the fallen dragon's skeleton. "I was just as surprised as you to find that big black dragon here."

"Okay, so if you know nothing, then what's our next move?" Atrius asked.

"The first thing we need to do is to figure out who's behind the dragons."

"Is it a who or a what?" Lydia conjectured.

"The Thalmor are our best lead," Delphine said with confidence. "If they aren't involved, they'll know who is."

It seemed a little far-fetched to Atrius. Sure, the Thalmor were powerful –but to be this powerful?

"What makes you think the Thalmor are bringing the dragons back?"

"Nothing solid yet," Delphine conceded. "But my gut tells me it can't be anybody else. Think about it – the Empire had captured Ulfric. The war was basically over. Then a dragon attacks, Ulfric escapes, and the war is back on."

"You'd think they both would've just taken a hot second to sit back and maybe let this dragon business be dealt with first," Lydia said with annoyance.

"If they were wise, that's exactly what would've happened," Delphine agreed. "But as it stands, Skyrim is weakened. Who else gains from that but the Thalmor?"

"So what are we going to do? Walk up to the next Altmer we see and ask politely if they happen to have been raising dragons in Skyrim recently?"

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy…" Delphine mused, "…problem is, that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. They could teach me a thing or two about paranoia…"

Atrius smirked at the thought of Delphine being introduced to Irileth. Those two would sure have a lot of fun together…

"So how do we get into the Thalmor Embassy?" Lydia interrupted.

"Hmm, I'm not sure yet," Delphine muttered, biting her lip. "I have a few ideas, but I'll need some time to pull things together. Meet me back in Riverwood. If I'm not back when you get there, wait for me. Keep an eye on the sky – things are only going to get worse.


	7. Diplomatic Immunity

**CHAPTER SEVEN – DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY**

"That's it, nice and steady…"

Atrius lined up his arrow, one eye closed, and the other staring straight down the line towards a wild deer he'd caught grazing in the forests surrounding Riverwood. It had been nearly a fortnight since they'd left Kynesgrove and last spoken to Delphine. He and Lydia had spent the time mingling with the locals – it was at this time Atrius had managed to pay a visit to Gerdur to thank her for her help after he'd escaped Helgen. She had introduced them to a Bosmer named Faendal, one of her workers at the mill. As it turned out, he was a decent archer and hunter in his spare time. Atrius had hired his services to help improve his marksmanship whilst Lydia kept watch for Delphine's return at the inn. It was midday, and Atrius and Faendal were currently engaged in one of their practice sessions.

*SWOOSH*

The deer let out a shriek as the arrow hit its mark, piercing right through her long neck. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, her last few breaths leaving her slowly.

"That was a good shot," Faendal complimented Atrius, "but next time you should try aiming for the head. They are still some nice tender spots around the neck if you're able to avoid hitting it, and the death is a little more humane for the beast."

Hunter as he was, Faendal's Bosmer blood granted him a natural respect and affection for animals – he hated to see them suffer.

"My Thane!" a voice called out to them. Lydia was running over having caught up to them, dodging branches and brushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

"What is it?" Atrius asked her. "Has Delphine returned?"

"Yes," Lydia said as she reached them, catching her breath. "She's waiting for you at the inn. She says she has a job for you."

"Thank you for your services, Faendal," he said, turning to the Bosmer. "Would you be happy to keep the dear as payment for today's lesson?"

"Of course," Faendal smiled. "Would you like another, same time tomorrow?"

Atrius shook his head.

"I suspect my business will be taking me elsewhere. But I bid you well."

They shook hands and departed – Faendal towards the mill, Atrius and Lydia to the inn.

Delphine looked tired by the time they arrived back in the secret meeting room, but otherwise well. She wouldn't tell them where she'd been this past week and a bit, but obviously she'd been busy, as she was ready to go ahead with their next plan of attack.

"I've figured out how we're going to get you into the Thalmor Embassy," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You're not coming?" Atrius asked her. He didn't much fancy the idea of walking into enemy territory without any backup.

"That would be a bad idea," she said. "I'd be too likely to attract the wrong kind of attention. But they don't know you at all…yet."

She was right. If what Delphine had said was true about belonging to the Blades, it was likely any Thalmor encampment was lined with wanted posters with her face on it. Anything to weaken the legitimacy of the Empire.

She continued. "The Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws little parties where the rich and connected cozy up to the Thalmor. I can get you into one of those parties. Once you're inside the Embassy, you get away and find Elenwen's secret files."

"How did you manage all this?" Atrius asked her.

"I have a contact inside the Embassy," she informed them. "He's not up for this kind of high-risk mission, but he can help you."

Atrius had no idea what Delphine's definition of "up-for-this-kind-of-high-risk-mission" was, but he was almost certainly sure he didn't fit the bill any better than this contact did. Truth be told though, he didn't think Delphine would leave him with much of a choice in the matter.

"His name's Malborn. Wood Elf, plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor. You can trust him. I'll get word for him to meet you at the Winking Skeever Inn in Solitude – do you know it?"

"We'll find it," Atrius replied.

"Sounds good. While you're doing that, I'll work on getting you an invitation to Elenwen's little party. Meet me at the Solitude stables after you've arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?"

"Yeah – once I'm inside the Embassy, then what?" Atrius asked her.

"That's when the fun starts," Delphine replied darkly. "You'll have to slip away from the party without raising the alarm. Then you'll need to find Elenwen's office and search her files. You're not exactly going in with a floor-plan, but Malborn should be able to point you in the right direction.

"This contact of yours – you're sure I can trust him?" Atrius certainly didn't want to find himself ratted out to an Embassy full of Thalmor soldiers before he'd even made it inside.

"Don't worry about Malborn," she laughed, "he's not a dangerous character. But he hates the Thalmor at least as much as I do."

Her expression turned dark once more.

"He's a Bosmer – the Thalmor wiped out his entire family back in Valenwood during one of their purges that we never hear about."

"Gods…" Atrius breathed. Unlike most citizens of them Empire, he and his father had been privy to private information regarding the brutality of the Thalmor and their raids on "lesser" civilisations. They pretended to be working for the good of elfkind and mankind alike, but the truth was that they were only seeking the betterment of their own race. The only reason the Empire had ever submitted to them was out of fear.

"Luckily they don't know who he really is, or he wouldn't be serving drinks at the ambassador's party," Delphine added.

"Alright, I guess that's all there is to it then," Atrius shrugged. "I'll see you in Solitude after I meet with Malborn."

"Sounds good. Be careful."

It was a one-week journey to Solitude, suggesting that this might've been where Delphine had gone during her time MIA. It lay almost to the northernmost point of Skyrim, but was kept surprisingly warm and sunny, especially considering the mountains and surrounding areas were so full of snow themselves.

The cover story for Lydia and Atrius was that they were newlyweds off to celebrate their honeymoon in the big city. It made sense – Solitude was nothing short of beautiful, a perfect stopover for tourists, and a big trading centre in Skyrim. Nobody doubted that there might be any deception coming from the pair.

Likewise, the Winking Skeever was a grand and comfortable inn. Had Atrius and Lydia wanted to stay the night, they would have been quite at their leisure and luxury. For now, however, they had other matters to attend to.

Delphine had been right to not consider Malborn a threat – he was short, even by Bosmer standards, and bony as well. Atrius could likely have snapped his neck without any difficulty if Malborn had decided to turn on them. But there would be no reason for that, they knew, as they took their seats at the same table as him in the lobby of the Winking Skeever.

"Can I help you?" Malborn asked them.

"Our mutual friends sent me," Atrius said in a low voice, inconspicuously taking a bite out of a loaf of bread that was sitting on the table in front of him.

"Alright, here's the deal," Malborn began, getting right down to business. "I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Don't plan on bringing anything else in with you – the Thalmor take security very seriously."

Atrius retreated to a private room to change. Upon returning to Malborn he handed over his armour, weapons, and a couple of healing spells. If something went wrong and he couldn't retrieve his gear for whatever reason, he suppose he could always abandon the mission and wait out the party as a faux-guest until he could safely leave.

"What about Lydia?" he asked the elf.

Malborn shook his head.

"I can only get one of you in – Delphine said it had to be you."

"But my Thane," Lydia protested, "why can't I go in your place? I'm sworn to protect you."

"Not this time, Lydia," Atrius declined. "Delphine is right. This is business related to the Dragonborn, which makes it the responsibility of the Dragonborn."

She folded her arms and scowled at him.

"Don't be like that. If you must do something, then take the rest of my belongings and stay here. Wait for me to return. I will return. I promise you."

Her expression softened and she loosened up, taking the rest of his belongings off him as he handed them over.

"Fine," she conceded. "But at least allow me to follow you down to the stables to see you off."

"I'll allow it."

Delphine was already waiting for him down at the stables, a carriage drawn and ready to go. It was getting dark outside – the party would begin shortly.

"Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the Embassy?"

"Yeah," Atrius nodded. "Malborn's all set."

"Good. I have your invitation to the party." She handed a formal-looking note to him, printed on pure white parchment.

"Also – you need to look the part. Here," she said, handing him a folded cloak. "Put this on."

Atrius unfolded the cloak and pulled it over his current garments. It was a royal shade of brown – grand, thick, and comfortable. Like something he would wear back home.

"What do you think?" he asked Lydia.

"You…you wear that well," Lydia said. Except it seemed strange to him – her voice was emotionless, and she seemed to be avoiding his gaze. Was she really still upset about being left behind?

"I guess that will have to do," Delphine interrupted. "You should pass for a real guest, as least until you open your mouth."

"Don't you worry about that," Atrius responded. He had a funny feeling that people-pleasing and talking politics would be the easiest thing he'd be doing tonight.

"Are you ready to board the carriage?" Delphine asked him.

"I'm ready."

Though the journey was short, the darkness had well and truly set in by the time the carriage came to a halt. Atrius approached the door to the Embassy, stopped by a Thalmor bouncer - just as they'd expected.

"Your invitation, please," the elf requested.

Atrius had been concerned that at this point the plan might fall to pieces before it had even begun, but it appeared the invitation aroused no suspicion, as the elf let him pass without further questioning. Atrius had barely made it inside when he was greeted by none other than Elenwen herself. She stood tall and snobbish, but her manner appeared to imply that she was quite willing to charm Atrius into getting on his good side. It was too bad for her that his opinions had already been formed.

"Welcome," she began. "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor ambassador to Skyrim."

"My name is Atrius," he replied, extending a hand which she took. "Pleased to meet you."

Atrius knew he didn't have to like Elenwen – but it was crucial for now to pretend.

"Madam Ambassador!" A familiar voice interrupted them. Atrius saw Elenwen roll her eyes before turning to the source of the sound.

"What is it, Malborn?" she spat at him.

Malborn had used the opportunity to alert Atrius as to his whereabouts. Once a distraction had been made, Atrius would know where to go. This Bosmer was a smart one.

"My apologies," Elenwen said, returning her attention to Atrius after a short speech reprimanding Malborn for his interruption. "We'll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy yourself."

Atrius had no intention of getting better acquainted with this embodiment of vanity, subtext or no. He instead surveyed the room instead, looking for anything that might be able to cause a distraction and allow him to slip away unnoticed. Let's see…

A platter of sweetrolls lay on a table nearby. He could knock them over, but it would draw too much attention to himself and likely wouldn't give him the time he needed to slip away. Uncork a barrel of wine and let it spill? No…too close in proximity to Malborn, and Elenwen would probably punish him for it.

Then he had an idea. He strolled across the room to where one of the Thalmor Justiciars was conversing with a noble, his long robe trailing to the ground. Quietly and quickly, Atrius uncorked a bottle of mead and spilt a good amount on the part of the Altmer's robe which trailed closest to the ground.

It didn't take long for his plan to come into fruition. Once the Altmer had gotten too close to the fireplace blazing in the middle of the room, his cloak caught quickly, the alcohol acting as a catalyst. The Justiciar shrieked in agony as he became engulfed in flames – Altmer are especially vulnerable to fire. His cries drew the attention of everybody in the room, with some servants rushing to find water to put out the flames. This was the only opportunity Atrius would get.

Meeting Malborn's gaze, he paced over as quickly as he could. They slipped past a wooden together and into a small cellar room, shutting the door behind them.

"We need to pass through the kitchen," Malborn whispered. "Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do any talking. Follow me…"

"Who comes, Malborn?" the voice of a female Khajit purred at them. "You know I don't like strange smells in my kitchen."

"A guest feeling ill," Malborn lied to her. "Leave the poor wretch be."

"A guest? In the kitchens?" the Khajit taunted. "You know this is against the rules…"

"Rules, is it, Tsavani?" Malborn returned fire. "I didn't realise that eating moon sugar was permitted. Perhaps I should ask the ambassador?"

Atrius had to admit, Malborn would make a good politician if he decided to pursue it. He knew how to stand his ground and think on his feet.

"Tss, get out of here! I saw nothing…" the Khajit growled.

Atrius was led into another small room, similar to the wine cellar. This one contained a large chest on the stone floor.

"Your gear in that chest," Malborn said, gesturing to it. "I'll lock the door behind you. Don't screw this up."

Atrius quickly got changed out of his party robes and into his armour – he didn't want to have to put it on with Altmer chasing him down. This turned out to be a wise decision, as he encountered two soldiers and a Justiciar no sooner than he'd exited the room. No way around them. He was outnumbered, but they hadn't seen him yet.

Atrius charged the first soldier with his warhammer, knocking him to the ground before he could react. The other two were slow to move – they must've had a little too much to drink at the party. The second soldier swung her mace at him repeatedly, but her inebriated state hindered her aim. Her neck was crushed under the weight of Atrius' warhammer. The Justiciar, however, preferred the use of magic.

Atrius felt his muscles seize and spasm as electricity coursed through his body. The shocks were painful and disabling. Grunting through the pain and focusing his willpower, he moved his legs step by step towards the Altmer. He backed up until Atrius had him cornered and was able to take advantage of his lack of armour. Atrius felt bones breaking beneath his weapon and looked up to see the Altmer lying on the ground, blood pooling at his side and his ribcage clearly crushed. He wasn't getting back up.

Still, the lightning spells he'd been casting were having their effect on Atrius. Occasionally he'd lose control of one or two of his muscles. It would be a handicap going forward.

A door led out into the courtyard where he encountered more Thalmor. These ones hadn't been at the party and were more alert than the last. Atrius tried to make a stealth-approach, but they saw him, and before he knew it there were two more soldiers and two more Justiciars on his case.

He duelled the soldiers one by one, luck somehow allowing him to overcome them. The shocks, however, were becoming an issue. His arms and legs felt tight, and he wasn't sure how much control he would have over them if this kept up. As his attackers drew closer, one weapon was left at his disposal.

"FUS-RO!"

The shout knocked both Altmer to the ground, each one cracking their head on a stone stair beneath them. He supposed that was the price they had to pay for luxury – that it would be the death of them.

Atrius took a moment to catch his breath and regain feeling in his body. He also took the opportunity to gulp down a healing potion, but he couldn't stay long – he was sure he'd caused a ruckus and more Thalmor would be hot on his trail shortly. Wiping potion from his mouth, Atrius found a door leading into another building, smaller than the one he had come from. He hoped this would be Elenwen's office – he had forgotten to ask Malborn about its location.

He opened the door as quietly as he could. The only thing he could hear was the sound of raised voices from behind a closed door, arguing. It wasn't until further inspection that Atrius realised he'd been spotted by another soldier in the middle of the room. He must've missed that one.

Atrius hoped to take her down quickly, but it was too much to ask – the sounds of battle alerted the other occupants of the building, thankfully including no one else but the other Justiciar and some unarmoured man Atrius didn't recognise.

Alert as they were, they hadn't been prepared for a battle in what they thought should be a safe space. Once they all lay dead on the floor Atrius made his way inside what looked like an office space. Searching the desks he found nothing – but in the chest he found three documents of potential interest. Two bound dossiers, one regarding Ulfric Stormcloak, and the other regarding Delphine. It seemed he was right about those wanted posters – at least in a sense. The final document was a collection of notes about the dragon investigation. Atrius could only conclude that if the Thalmor were investigating the dragons, they probably weren't the ones raising them.

Working that out would be tomorrow's problem – for now, he needed to get out of there. His body was still shaky and sensitive from taking all those shocks and he wasn't sure how much fight he had left, or even how he'd make it this far. He couldn't likely escape the same way he came – Atrius would have to try his luck pushing forward. He followed the building down a flight of stairs until he came to a door. Praying it led to somewhere other than a storage closet, he pushed it open.

What he found was worse. It seemed that the Thalmor had been keeping their own interrogation chamber, right here in Skyrim. The room was dark. Atrius took a moment to observe how it was furnished – with cells and torture instruments. Another chest lay in this room, too. Atrius searched its contents. He found one more dossier – this for someone named Esbern. He didn't recognise the name, but he stowed it away anyways, as he heard the doors to the chamber open.

"Listen, spy! You're trapped in here, and we have your accomplice!"

"Dammit," Atrius whispered to himself. They'd caught up to him – and they had Malborn.

"Surrender immediately!" the voice ordered him.

That wasn't going to happen, not after coming this far. Atrius sprinted back up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him in their current condition. Pushing Malborn out of the way, his guard was down – a mace came crashing down on his helmet, disorientating him. Through the temporary blindness, he reached out and grabbed something. He didn't know what it was, but it was warm and heavy. With all his remaining Nord strength, he lifted up the object and threw it over the balcony. He heard a scream and a crash.

Regaining his vision, he looked over the balcony to see the Thalmor solder impaled by the spikes of one of their own torture mechanisms. Just desserts, in his opinion. But something was wrong. He dropped to his knees. His body was acting all funny.

A figure came to his side and lifted him up, allowing him to support himself.

"Malborn," Atrius gasped. "Help."

"Come this way, there's a trapdoor."

The Bosmer half-dragged Atrius down the stairs and through a trapdoor that led into a cave. It was filled with bodies at varying stages of decay, the stench filling their lungs and making them both nauseous.

"I always wondered where they used to get rid of the bodies," Malborn gasped. "Now I wish I'd never found out."

The fresh air they breathed upon exiting the cave was a relief. Atrius leaned on Malborn the entire way back to Solitude, thankfully no longer than a 15-minute journey on foot.

"Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life!" Malborn spat at him as they limped through the doors of the Winking Skeever. "I hope it was worth it."

"You were already their prey Malborn, now it's just out in the open for all to see," Atrius mumbled before passing out, his energy spent from the exertion of the night he'd had.

He wasn't sure what happened after that, but the next thing Atrius knew was that he was very comfortable, and his body was very heavy. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that it was day. The curtains to his room were closed, sunlight filtering in through the gaps.

He sat up with a groan and heard the shuffling movement of a figure on the other side of the room.

"Lydia?" he asked weakly.

She shushed him and pushed him back down onto the bed.

"You and Malborn got in very early this morning," she told him. "He said you were hurt, but alive. It seems they did a number on you."

"Those damn magicians…" Atrius muttered. "What about Malborn? Where is he?"

"He left before daybreak," Lydia informed him. "Said he was making his way to Windhelm – he seemed to think it was safest."

"Yeah, he's probably right."

There was a moment of silence before Atrius spoke up again.

"The documents I collected," he asked Lydia, "do you have them?"

She nodded, and pulled them from his bag on the other side of the room before handing them over. The first one he pulled out was the dragon investigation notes, taking a skim through them.

"Uncover party behind…possible lead…Delphine was wrong, the Thalmor know just as much as we do," he said to Lydia.

"So what's her next lead, do you suppose?" she asked him.

"I don't know…" Atrius mumbled. He reached over and pulled out the dossier for the man named Esbern. This one he had grabbed more on impulse, but perhaps it contained further clues for them to follow.

"One of the Blades…hey, maybe Delphine knows who this guy is," Atrius suggested as he continued to read. "It seems like this guy has really been a thorn in the Thalmor's side….hiding somewhere in Riften."

He snapped the book shut.

"So what do you make of it?" Lydia asked him.

"No idea," Atrius coughed. "Maybe Delphine can help shed some light when we make it back to Riverwood."

"Speaking of," Lydia began, "I suggest we leave after dark. For one thing your body is still healing from those shocks. For another, I've heard the Thalmor have turned you into a wanted man. Leaving at nightfall should hopefully give us a bit more protection from any patrols."

"As you order," Atrius yawned, lying back down and falling asleep once more.

They reached Riverwood nearly one week later.

"Remind me never to agree to any of your plans ever again," Atrius said to Delphine as he collapsed into one of the armchairs sitting in their secret meeting space beneath the inn.

"You made it out alive, at least," she said, unconcerned. "Did you learn anything useful?"

Atrius handed over the documents he'd pulled from the Embassy.

"The Thalmor know nothing about the dragons."

"Really?" Delphine asked, flicking through the pages of her own dossier. "That seems hard to believe. Are you sure about that?"

"Why'd you send me if you weren't going to believe me?" Atrius burst out, thoroughly annoyed at Delphine's disbelief after all the trouble he'd gone to trying to retrieve this information at her request.

"You're right, you're right," she conceded, raising her hands in surrender. "I just…I was sure it must have been them. If not the Thalmor, then who? Or – as Lydia said – what?"

"I don't know," Atrius shrugged. "But they're looking for someone named Esbern."

"Esbern? He's alive?" Delphine laughed, her expression one of shock and joy. "I thought the Thalmor must have got him years ago! That crazy old man…"

"So you know him?"

"Esbern was one of the Blades archivists, back before the Thalmor smashed us during the Great War. He knew everything about the ancient dragonlore of the Blades."

"They seem to think he's hiding out in Riften," Atrius said, pulling out the dossier and turning to the last page.

"Riften, eh?" Delphine said, reading through the text. "Probably down in the Ratway then. It's where I'd go. You'd better get to Riften."

"You're not coming?"

"No, it's like I said – I'd attract too much attention. Oh, and on that note: if you think I'm paranoid, just wait until you find Esbern. You may have some trouble getting him to trust you. Just ask him where he was on the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know what it means."

"You think they had a thing?" Lydia asked as they returned to the hustle and bustle of the inn.

"Who, Delphine and Esbern? I don't know, it's possible I suppose," Atrius replied. "She did seem awfully happy to hear he was alive – by Delphine's standards, I mean. But maybe he was just a really good friend."

"Maybe," Lydia smiled. "But I, for one, do not want to know the special significance of the 30th of Frostfall."

"You think- ah, Lydia!" Atrius said, shoving her playfully as he caught her meaning.


	8. A Cornered Rat

**CHAPTER EIGHT – A CORNERED RAT**

Lydia had warned Atrius about Riften. It sounded like Cyrodiil's equivalent of the waterfront district in the Imperial City – a home for thieves, addicts, and drunks – only worse, for all the organised crime and corruption that was prolific not just in the lower classes, but also amongst the guards and noblemen. They had barely been 10 minutes in the city before they bore witness to extortion, skooma use, and violence firsthand. This wasn't a place Atrius wanted to stay too long, if they could help it.

They'd been told to look for a man named Brynjolf for information regarding this Esbern character. As it turned out though, it was Brynjolf who first found them. Atrius and Lydia had been wandering the streets in the market outside the tavern when a large red-headed Nord nearly walked into them. He scanned Atrius carefully and looked deep into his eyes, as if observing him.

"Can I help you?" Atrius asked, feeling slightly nervous and uncomfortable.

"Never done an honest day's work in your life for all that coin you're carrying, eh lad?" he asked.

"What?" Atrius asked, taken aback. Sure, he had a bit of wealth to his name – but just because his profession involved not getting his hands dirty didn't mean that he didn't work just as hard as the next person.

"I'm saying you've got the coin, but you didn't earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell," the man gloated.

"And who are you to make those assumption?" Lydia growled at him.

"Whoah, settle down there lass! The name's Brynjolf – and I'll have you know that I'm usually pretty good at picking them."

"You're the one Delphine wanted us to find?" Atrius said in disbelief. Why would she have thought that this socially unconventional guy would be able to help them?

"Delphine…now that's a name I haven't heard in a while…" Brynjolf said to himself, straightening up and stroking his chin. "But why would she send you after me? Unless it's about that ceremonial dagger…in which case I'll have you tell her it was never hers in the first place!"

"What? No, nothing about a dagger. We're looking for an old guy, he's supposed to be hiding out in Riften. She said you could help," Atrius replied.

"Ah, expecting information for free, are you?" he answered with a glint in his eye. Of course – this guy was a crook, just like everyone else in this city. Nothing would be got for free. "Help me deal with business first. Then we'll see how I can help you."

"Let me find him first," Atrius countered, before leaning in close and speaking in a low voice, "dragons are bad for business."

"Passing on a golden opportunity is worse."

Atrius couldn't believe how stubborn this guy was being – what on earth could be more important than dragons right now? But it seemed he was at an impasse.

"Fine. What do you have in mind?" he asked Brynjolf. Whatever it was, he hoped it would be over with quickly.

"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands," Brynjolf explained. "It's simple – I'm going to cause a distraction, and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

"Break the law? Are you kidding? No deal!" Atrius exclaimed.

"Never mind then, lad. If you change your mind, come and find me."

And with that Brynjolf went back to manning his stall.

"Do you think there's anything else we can do?" Lydia asked him. "He mentioned your money, maybe he just wants some of that."

"No," Atrius replied. "He seems like the kind of guy who if he wanted money, he'd just ask – either that or take it from you. No, he wants the job done."

"Okay…so, are we just going to look for another way?"

There was silence.

"Oh, come on," Lydia groaned. "You're not seriously thinking about going along with this – could you even pull it off?"

"Well, when I was a boy I remember I used to pinch things from my da's friends – when the men from the council came around to play cards, they'd get drunk and lose track of things. It wasn't very hard to slip a hand in their robes and pull out a nice chain necklace, or a septim or two."

"Don't look at me like that!" he added upon seeing Lydia's disgusted expression. "I was a boy, we all did it for fun! Besides, it was after ma had died and I went through a bit of a rebellious phase, it wasn't as if I kept up the practice."

"Well, it seems like you're about to revive it," she rolled her eyes at him.

"You know Lydia, under any other circumstances I might agree with you that it's best to let this one slide," Atrius informed her. "But seeing as we're talking about the well-being of every single citizen of Skyrim potentially being at stake here, I think one little bit of thievery might just be permissible."

"And if you get caught?" Lydia asked him.

"Then I spend…what is it, three, four days in jail before they let me out?"

"And what about your political reputation?"

"Like I said – it's not like they're going to turn me into a fugitive for a tiny bit of attempted theft. It's certainly not the worst thing that's happened in this city, they might even just turn a blind eye considering everything else that's going on here."

"Fine," she conceded. "But I still think it's a bad idea."

"I never said it was a good one," Atrius responded, before running off to find Brynjolf again.

"Which one is Madesi and which one is Brand-Shei?" he asked. Brynjolf turned around, a grin stretching across his face.

The theft and plant job had been rather easy – Brynjolf managed to cause a scene in the marketplace, drawing everyone away from their stalls and all eyes away from his target. It didn't take much to remove Madesi's ring from the strongbox under his stall, and with Brand Shei's cloak being loose as it was, slipping the ring into his pocket was easier than anything Atrius had pinched in his youth. He returned to Brynjolf without anyone so much as suspecting foul play.

"Looks like I chose the right person for the job," Brynjolf grinned, as a commotion began in the marketplace and guards began dragging Brand-Shei away, presumably having found the stolen ring in his possession.

"It was wrong to do those things," Atrius muttered to him, Brand-Shei's screams and protests echoing in the background.

"Arrogant, eh?" Brynjolf accused him.

"Maybe I just don't think being coerced into committing crimes is what I wanted to spend my day doing."

"No coercion here, lad," Brynjolf said. "We always have a choice. You wanted information? Head down to the Ragged Flaggon – it's a tavern holed up down in the Ratways. The barkeep, Vekel – he should be able to point you in the right direction."

"Really?" Atrius asked him. "I break the law for you, and that's all the information you have for me?"

"Alright, look lad," Brynjolf growled. "I don't have time for whining milk-drinkers and I don't owe you or Delphine anything. I never said how much information I'd give you, and if you feel like you've ended up getting the worse end of the deal, that's your problem."

"What a jerk…" Atrius muttered, as he turned and walked away.

"So? Was it worth it?" Lydia asked, running up to him.

"He said to head down to the Ratway," Atrius mumbled. "That's nothing we didn't already know from what Delphine told us."

"Excellent," Lydia said to him sarcastically. "So you went to all that trouble for nothing."

"Yeah, but what's done is done. The worst thing we can do now is waste more time talking about it when we ought to just head down to the Ratway and see what we can find out."

"Then let's go."

The Ratway was aptly named. A collection of tunnels acting as Riften's sewerage system, it was the home to many different varieties of vermin. This included three bandits, a skeever, and a deranged man surrounded by animal traps who attacked the pair with his fists. All of these were disposed of by Atrius and Lydia, but it did leave them wondering – who on earth would want to live down here?

"Someone desperate, no doubt," Atrius suggested as Lydia raised this question. "Remember, he is a fugitive in the eyes of the Thalmor. When you think about it, this is the perfect hiding place – even if they knew where to find him, what kind of prideful Altmer would stoop themselves to come down here in the first place?"

The Ragged Flagon might have been populated by a people more civilised, but it was no less filthy than the rest of the tunnels. Walking through the small tavern, Atrius could see grime building up on the ale mugs, and the footpath only just barely stood high enough to distinguish itself from what smelt like the surrounding sewerage water. He hated to think about what must happen down here when there's an excess of water flow, and he made a mental note never to come here without drink of his own. The customers themselves glared as he and Lydia passed by – it was apparent that strangers were not welcome here, even less so than any other part of Riften, and that was saying something. They made their way over to the barkeep, whose oily hair and weathered appearance made him look exactly like the kind of person who would fit in around here. He was practically a stereotype.

"Are you Vekel?" Atrius asked him, as he cleaned a glass with a filthy grey rag.

"Ay," the man acknowledged without looking up.

"I'm looking for an old guy hiding out somewhere in Riften," Atrius continued. "Brynjolf said to speak to you."

"Huh. Lots of old guys around," Vekel said shortly, continuing to polish the glass in his hand. "I don't really know how I can help."

Atrius sighed. He ought to have foreseen this after what happened with Brynjolf earlier in the day. Names don't get you anywhere around here. But he had some idea as to what this barkeep might be after…

"Maybe this will help your memory," he muttered, pulling out a bag of gold and pushing it towards the man.

"Ah," Vekel said, looking up for the first time and eyeing the sack of gold. "Well, when you put it that way…I think I do know the old guy you're talking about."

"Of course you do," Lydia cut across. "Where is he?"

"He's holed up in Rayway Warrens," Vekel told them, pocketing the bag of coin. "Hardly ever leaves the place – has someone bring him food and such."

"Let me guess – that someone is the helpful barkeep down in the Ragged Flagon?" Atrius asked him.

"Someone," Vekel replied. "Anyways, he's a crazy old coot from what I've heard. For that to stand out down here, he must be really off his nut."

Atrius and Lydia had to agree with him on that one – they'd already seen enough of this place to know that you had to really be pushing the boundaries to garner any attention here. Perhaps that's why they were so unfriendly towards visitors – it was the only place where the best of them could ever be considered normal. Any outsides only served to remind them of their place as an outcast above ground.

In any case, they asked Vekel to point them in the way of the Warrens. This information thankfully came at no cost to them – Atrius was sick of having money and favours extorted from him in this city.

The Warrens only led them further into the bowels of the Ratway – a small and inconspicuous door behind the counter of the barkeep, the way into which it led was colder, wetter, and darker than any other part of the tunnels so far. It was a miracle anything survived down here.

But survive they did. Atrius and Lydia knew this when they first heard the sound of voices. Altmer voices. It seemed that the Thalmor really had decided it was worth their while to come down here.

"Well, my Thane," Lydia whispered, readying her bow and arrow and crouching down into a sneaking position. "It seems you were wrong about the Thalmor thinking it beneath them to venture into the Ratway."

"It seems I was," Atrius smirked.

"How many do you think there are?"

"It sounds like there might be two…three…"

"Are you alright?" Lydia asked him. "I know you came off a little worse for wear last time you clashed with the elves. And it wasn't that long ago, either."

"I will be fine," he assured her. "And besides – I am not fighting alone today. My best housecarl is with me to join me in battle."

Lydia smiled at herself in the darkness.

"Your only housecarl."

As they crept closer they made out the faint glow of magic emanating from a tall figure. This one must be a Justiciar, his enchanted cloak giving off the slight magical aura that was characteristic of all enchanted items. Atrius didn't know any other kind of magic, but he knew his enchanting. He silently pointed this out to Lydia, who nodded in understanding. They both lined up their bows and fired – one shot piercing through his right shoulder, the other through his spleen. Unfortunately he died loudly and dramatically – his friends were alerted to the danger.

"Crybaby," Lydia hissed as she stowed her bow and pulled out her axe.

Two soldiers followed the Justiciar, both carrying flaming torches as well as their trademark elven swords. Atrius took one, Lydia took the other.

Atrius dodged the swing of the sword, jumping out of the way as the Thalmor aimed for the weak point in his armour at his waist. He swung around beside her, locking one foot behind her leg and pushing her backward with his arm. The soldier slipped and her torch was knocked out of her hand. It rolled over off the ledge they were fighting on, plunging them into darkness which was only broken by the occasional shimmer from Lydia's combatant. Atrius scrambled to climb on top the guard. Straddling her waist and grabbing her sword-wrist, he threw it back into the ground, resulting in her also losing her weapon. She struggled against him, but she was no match for his Nordic weight. He felt through the darkness, grabbing what seemed to be her head and pulling her protective helmet off before promptly smashing her skull into the stone ground beneath him repetitively until he felt a warm substance trickling over his fingers and she stopped moving.

"Well, well….caught yourself in a compromising situation." He heard Lydia's mocking voice above his right shoulder and felt her hand grab his arm to help him up.

"Never thought you had a thing for elves and roughness. Imagine what Balgruuf will think when he finds that out about his Thane?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he growled at her, finding his feet.

"Nuh-uh," she teased him. "This place is a gutter, so I get to put my mind wherever I want."

Atrius grabbed one of the fallen torches and waved it over the face of the second soldier.

"Definitely Thalmor," he observed. "Do you think they've found him already?"

"If they have, they're probably still here. Otherwise we wouldn't have run into these three. We should get moving."

A bright room lay further ahead, lit by hearthfire and illuminating the corpse of a dead man – poor guy was so skinny, it looked like he'd starved to death.

"He's wearing a silver necklace," Lydia observed, catching the glint through the man's torn and ragged clothing. "Why not sell it for food?"

"Perhaps it was an heirloom he was unwilling to part with," Atrius suggested, grabbing at the necklace around his own neck. He knew that no matter how bad things got, he could never bring himself to sell his father's amulet.

Lydia shook her head in silence. Atrius knew – without a family of her own, she didn't understand the importance of such things. As much as she had her friends, she hadn't known the love of a mother or father. And she'd never had someone's prized possession entrusted to her. He hoped one day she might realise.

For now, however, they continued onwards, winding further down and passing through even more corridors of stone. Atrius had to admire the dedication of the hands who had built these passageways. All the stone and labour it must have taken…they'd travelled easily an hour south. How had anyone been able to dig so deep? Riften must be a very old city, indeed, and one fallen from glory at that. Could her founders have foreseen what she would one day become? No, they couldn't have. A society will only stoop as low as acceptable. It is the generations that follow which must gradually lower their standards until even the basest evil seems right and justified in the eyes of the population.

They reached a new area, wider than the others. This one contained what could only be described as rooms – similar to ones that could be found at an inn, only with outcasts and hermits for occupants. One of these had to belong to Esbern. They walked upstairs and heard voices from behind some of the doors – a man whispering murderous and cannibalistic words, a woman repeating a list of mundane items as she laughed for no apparent reason. Finally they came to a large door – one heavily reinforced and chained. Delphine had said he would be paranoid - this had to belong to Esbern. Atrius knocked at it tentatively.

"Go away!" a male voice called out.

"Esbern?" Atrius asked, in what he hoped was a friendly and non-threatening manner. "Open the door – I'm a friend."

"Really?" Lydia whispered. "Tell the paranoid old man who's never met you that you're apparently a friend – that's the approach you decide to go with?"

Atrius shushed her.

"What? No, that's not me," the man replied unconvincingly. "I'm not Esbern - I don't know what you're talking about!"

"It's okay," Atrius tried to calm him "Delphine sent me."

He had hoped that mentioning Delphine's name would earn him this man's trust, but as with all other name-dropping attempts so far, this one also failed to have the desired effect.

"Delphine? How do you…" the man trailed, his voice suddenly turning to anger. Now they were sure this was Esbern.

"So you've finally found her!" he accused them. "And she led you to me…"

He trailed off in what sounded like betrayal and disappointment.

"And here I am. Caught like a rat in a trap."

Atrius decided to try the magic phrase.

"Delphine said to remember the 30th of Frostfall!"

There was a moment of pause.

"Ah, indeed. Indeed, I do remember…" Esbern replied, in way that made Atrius and Lydia absolutely determined not to find out what happened that day. His tone said enough – even too much.

"Delphine really is alive, then?" he asked them.

"Yes," Atrius replied, glad that his plan was finally working. "She needs your help so that we can stop the dragons!"

"You'd better come in then and tell me how you found me and what you want," the voice called back to them. "This will only take a moment…"

They heard shuffling and the shifting of chains, grunting and groaning. They stood there for a solid 3 minutes waiting for Esbern to unchain his room and undo all the locks – it might've been amusing if not for the circumstances surrounding their visit. Finally the door swung open, and a surprisingly strong looking, bald, and elderly man welcomed them inside.

"Come in, come in!" he ushered them. "Make yourselves at home."

As soon as they'd entered into his room, he shut the door behind them. The place was surprisingly comfortable looking and well-furnished. It was lit with candles and torches, had a workbench and a kitchen, and even a straw bed with some bedroom furniture. Even Atrius with all his noble upbringing could imagine himself being moderately comfortable in such a place – a feat, given the state of the rest of the Ratway. Perhaps this Esbern wasn't all that crazy after all if he could look after himself finely.

"So, Delphine keeps up the fight after all these years," Esbern stated, his expression soft. "I thought she'd have realised it's hopeless by now. I tried to tell her years ago."

"What do you mean it's hopeless?" Atrius asked him.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Esbern burst out. "What more needs to happen before you all wake up and see what's going on? Alduin has returned, just like the prophecy said! The dragon from the dawn of time who devours the souls of the dead! No one can escape his hunger, here or in the afterlife. Alduin will devour all things and the world will end. Nothing can stop him!

"You're talking about the literal end of the world?!" If all this was true, Atrius had to wonder what the point was in hiding out in some stony underground sewerage system. If the world was going to end, even here, Esbern would hardly escape it.

"Oh yes," Esbern continued. "It's all been foretold. The end has begun. Alduin has returned. Only a Dragonborn can stop him. But no Dragonborn has been known for centuries."

Atrius' ears perked as Esbern took a seat on a dining table chair nearby, looking weary and dejected.

"It seems that the gods have grown tired of us," he sighed, dabbing a handkerchief as his brow. "They've left us to our fate as the plaything of Alduin the World-Eater."

"It's not hopeless, Esbern," Atrius said to him hurriedly. "I'm Dragonborn!"

He had never been more relieved to own that as his identity – he was Dragonborn, and the world would not be coming to an end.

"What? You're…can it really be true? Dragonborn? Then…there is hope!" Esbern said, springing up from his chair and pacing about as if figuring out what to do next. "We must...we must…we must go! Quickly now. Take me to Delphine. We have much to discuss. But…give me just a moment…"

And with that, he ran about the room, muttering nonsensically and pulling out items at random, throwing some into a bag, and the rest haphazardly about. It was all rather eccentric and peculiar.

"Right," he said, once he was all packed and had thrown a backpack around his shoulders. "Let's be going."


	9. Alduin's Wall

**CHAPTER NINE – ALDUINS WALL**

"So what now?" Lydia said, breaking the silence of the night.

They had stopped over at Ivarstead on their way back from Riften, the human package secure and currently asleep in another part of the inn. It was well after dark and moonlight crept into the room from between the wooden slats in the roof. Atrius and Lydia occupied separate beds on opposite sides of the same room. Atrius had assumed she was asleep, but apparently she was not, her thoughts keeping her awake.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, sleepily and stirring from his near-slumber.

"Well, all those things Esbern said," she clarified. "Alduin destroying the world, and a Dragonborn being the only one who can stop it. You're the only Dragonborn we've heard of, yes?"

"So it would seem."

"And someone's got to save the world?"

"What's your point?"

"Well, I mean…how do you feel about it?" she asked him. "I never exactly got the impression you wanted to be Dragonborn in the first place."

"Well, that's because I didn't. And I still don't," he replied to her, sitting up in his bed and swinging his feet over the edge of it. "But it's like you said, someone's got to take on Alduin and apparently I'm the only one we know who can. If I don't, I'm just going to die anyways, along with everyone else. I have to try."

There was a moment of silence between them.

"Are you frightened?"

"Are you?" Atrius asked her. "After all – you're sworn to be right here with me. You're in as much danger of death as I am."

Lydia also sat up in her bed to face him, but continued to look away from him as if lost in thought.

"I think…do you remember the night at the Thalmor Embassy?"

He nodded.

"When you came back with Malborn, I knew things had gone wrong and I hadn't been there for you. I knew I had no say in whether you went or not. I also knew you'd be in over your head. And I couldn't do anything about it. Do you know how helpless I felt?"

He shook his head at her. He had some idea, but to actually be in her shoes – well, he hadn't really considered it.

"It wasn't just that I couldn't do my duty. But…I care about you," she added, looking slightly embarrased.

"Lydia-"

"And for me, I know there's going to be more times when there's something only you can do. Sure, maybe the Embassy was a choice. But I also get the sense that…I don't know…this power you have as Dragonborn. It'll take you to places I can't follow. I know how to die – I've done it every day since the day I was born. But losing you? They never taught me how to deal with that. My biggest fear is that one day you'll go off, and you won't come back."

"Lydia, I came back that night from the Embassy," he said softly to her. "Maybe it took a bit of luck and help…but I did come back. And maybe you're right – maybe there will be more times like that in the future when I end up going places you can't follow. But I promise you I'll always come back, just like that night in Solitude."

"And what if killing Alduin costs you your life?" she asked him, looking him in the eyes for the first time. "What if the twisted plan of the gods is that it's your life for his? Will you still come back?"

"Even if the world has to end."

He heard a shuffling as she lay back down in her own bed.

"Lydia. Will you make me a promise too?" he asked her, following suit and settling back down on his pillow.

"What is it, my Thane?"

"Don't do anything reckless trying to save me if things should go south and it looks like I'm in danger. If I'm going to look after me, then I need you to look after you."

"Is that an order?" she asked him.

"Yes, that's an order," he whispered into the dark. "Because I care about you too."

It was near midnight when the trio finally trudged back into Riverwood, but Delphine was still wide awake and awaiting their return. She was right there beside them almost as soon as they'd walked through the front door. For a moment it seemed as if she were prepared to embrace Esbern, but thought the better of it and stopped short. He was the first to speak.

"Delphine! I…it's good to see you," he smiled at her. "It's been…a long time."

"It's good to see you too, Esbern," she said, cupping his shoulder with her hand. "It's been too long, old friend. Too long."

She turned to include Atrius and Lydia in the conversation.

"Well then," she continued, looking them up and down. "You made it, safe and sound. Good. Come on, we need to talk."

Once they were alone and out of earshot, the conversation returned to the topic of dragons and the usual question – what would be the next step?

"Now then," Delphine began, addressing Esbern once again. "I assume you know about…?"

She nodded towards Atrius.

"Oh, yes!" Esbern exclaimed, staring into Atrius' eyes. "Dragonborn! Indeed, yes."

He walked over to Delphine's table in the middle of the room and pulled out a small and weathered orange book, placing it on the table and opening it up before continuining.

"This changes everything, of course! There's no time to lose. We must locate…let me show you...I had it here somewhere…."

Esbern began flicking through the pages, searching intently for something.

"You see, right here!" he said, pointing at an illustration in the book. They all gathered around him to see a picture of a large stone construction – it was too small to make out the specfics, but gave enough detail for them to see that it was obviously the work of an ancient people group.

"Sky Haven Temple," Esbern hummed. "It was constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" Delphine whispered to Atrius before Esbern shushed her.

Atrius shook his head. He had absolutely no idea what Esbern was referring too, having grown up in Cyrodiil and mostly having learned Imperial lore. But he nevertheless allowed Esbern to continue and indulge himself.

"This is where they built Alduin's Wall, to set down in stone all their accumulated dragonlore" Esbern continued, as if expecting everyone else were on the same page as he. "A hedge against the forgetfulness of centuries. A wise and foresighted policy, in the event."

In translation, this structure would hopefully contain lots of information about dragons, and Esbern thought it mighty clever that its makers had decided to record this information for the generations to follow.

"Despite the far-reaching fame of Alduin's Wall at the time – one of the wonders of the ancient world – its location was lost."

"Esbern, what are you getting at?" Delphine asked him.

"You mean…you don't mean to say you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall?" Esbern asked her, sounding thouroughly annoyed at the fact.

"And not even you two?" he asked, addressing Atrius and Lydia, who promptly shook their heads.

"Let's pretend we haven't," Delphine cut across, preferring to get straight to the point. "What's Alduin's Wall, and what does it have to do with stopping the dragons?"

"Alduin's Wall was where the ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. Part history, part prophecy."

Right, Alduin. That dragon Esbern had mentioned back in Riften – the one that was supposedly hell-bent on consuming the entire world and then some. It was finally starting to make sense to Atrius why this place might be important.

"Its location has been lost for centuries," Esbern told them once more, "but I've found it again! Not lost, you see, just forgotten. The Blades archives held so many secrets…I was only able to save a few scraps…"

They watched as he sat down and shook his head regrettably. Honestly, though, it seemed to the rest of them that they were just lucky one of the few scraps of secrets Esbern had been able to preserve had turned out to be arguably the most important ones that they would ever need.

"So do you think that Aduin's Wall will tell us how to defeat Alduin?" Delphine asked him.

Atrius saw Lydia turn around and cover her mouth, her shoulders shaking in what he assumed must have been silent laughter. For all her authoritativeness and intelligence, Delphine had clearly been rather slow on the uptake here.

"Well, yes, but…there's no guarantee, of course," Esbern said to her, oblivious to Lydia's reaction.

"Well, it's the best lead we've got," Delphine sighed. "Sky Haven Temple it is."

She turned and addressed Atrius directly.

"I know that area of the Reach Esbern's talking about," she said to him. "Near what's now known as Karthspire, in the Karth River canyon. We can meet you there or all travel together. It's your call."

"Let's travel there together," Atrius answered her, hearing murmurs of agreement from Esbern and Lydia. "I don't know the way, and also, it might be safer to travel together should we need to defend ourselves from any Thalmor searching parties."

"I agree," Delphine acknowledged. "Let's go see if we can find this Sky Haven Temple."

"So what do you think of them together?" Lydia asked Atrius. They were travelling downhill along a stone road a little way behind Delphine and Esbern, letting them take the lead and provide directions.

"What, you mean romantically?" Atrius asked her. He did not need her to specify who she was talking about.

"Romantically, as friends…it doesn't really matter," Lydia clarified. "Either way, they're quite an odd couple, don't you think? They're polar opposites. And yet, they appear to make a good team."

Atrius nodded.

"I know what you mean. Even just listening to the first conversation we had with the two of them together…Delphine's direct and straight to the point. Esbern likes to give all the details and take the longer way around. He likes to sit back and take it all in, whereas Delphine would rather spring into action," Atrius observed. "They're interesting together…but you're right, they do make a good team."

"Do you think it's because compliment each other as opposites?" Lydia asked him. "Or would you say it's because they've known each other for a long time and built that bond over shared experiences?"

"I'm not sure," Atrius replied. "But I mean – well, look at us."

"Us?"

"Yes. For example, you and I, Lydia – we're different," Atrius went on. "You take life less seriously than I do and you're far more playful. But your values are strongly held and you don't waver from them. As for me, I'm more serious and stubborn. But I'm also more willing to break the rules every now and again. But together we balance each other out and provide perspective. Though we haven't known each other long – we are a good team."

"You picked up all that just from the time we've spent together so far?" Lydia asked him, both surprised and impressed. It had only been a little over a month since she'd first been assigned to be Atrius' housecarl. He must have had more keen observation skills than she realised. Either that, or…maybe he was taking special notice.

Atrius opened his mouth, but he never got a chance to respond. A loud roar echoed in the distance, and they all jumped around in fright – a dark shadow flew over them. Another dragon was attacking!

"PREPARE TO DEFEND YOURSELVES!" Delphine shouted at them, pulling out a sword whilst flames were conjured in Esbern's hands. Lydia and Atrius both pulled out their bows and reached for an arrow apiece.

The dragon flew around a mountain, and at first they thought it was ignoring them – but then it looped back around and roared angrily. It swooped over fast and Atrius caught the direct heat of it's fireball – thankfully, he was protected by his armour.

He and Lydia were having difficulty aiming at the dragon, but Esbern was able to catch it by sending magic fireballs of his own soaring at its hide. Atrius was glad they'd all decided to go together. He could faintly hear Delphine barking orders, unable to help with her restricted weaponry. She would only be able to get a blow in if and when the dragon decided to land.

Finally the dragon was beginning to slow down thanks to Esbern's quick firing, and Atrius and Lydia both managed to get a few shots in with their bows. The dragon continued to focus fire on Atrius – his armour warming up, but still managing to protect him from the deadly heat.

"Should we try and run?" Atrius shouted at Delphine as the dragon disappeared briefly once more over the other side of the mountain.

"No, it's coming back!"

Indeed it was, and fast approaching. It flew over Atrius and landed at the source of most of its trouble thus far – Esbern. Atrius tried to fire quickly, but it wasn't enough. Esbern was engulfed in the dragon's flame. His clothing set alight as he screamed and dropped to the ground, rolling around to put out the flames.

Atrius urgently stowed his bow and pulled out his warhammer. He sprinted towards the dragon, but Delphine reached it first. With a roar she climbed on top of its neck and plunged her sword through the top of its skull. Its head fell to the ground with a roar and she rolled off awkwardly as it hit the ground.

Atrius ran towards them through the dust generated by the dragon's demise. The dragon was glowing and he felt its soul invading him, but he hardly took any notice – he needed to get to Esbern. He spotted his target lying on the stone road not too far away from him, Delphine at his side attempting to heal him with her own magic without much success.

"Esbern!"

Atrius and Lydia had joined them once more in a matter of seconds. Once they were there, Atrius dropped to his knees and shuffled through his bag. Esbern was in a bad way – burns covered most of his body, and his clothes were mostly singed and torn. He was somehow conscious, although it seemed to be just barely.

"Here," Atrius said, quickly pulling out a small vial of healing potion and holding it to Esbern's lips, just as Lydia had done for him many weeks ago near High Hrothgar.

Esbern gulped down the potion deeply and thankfully.

"We need to get off the road," Lydia said to them. "Is he able to be moved?"

"We'll have to risk it," Delphine said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. "Come on, Esbern…"

She draped one of his arms across her shoulders. Atrius quickly followed suit with the other arm and together they lifted him, attempting to drag him upright over to a nearby rocky flat next to a running stream of water. He cried in pain, but allowed them to carry him to safety.

Lydia laid out a sleeping roll on the ground, and Atrius and Delphine gently set Esbern down on top of it. His last bit of strength had left him, and he was now knocked out.

"Will he be alright?" Atrius asked Delphine.

"He will be," she nodded. "He'll need some rest, but you've already given him a healing potion. The old man's tough – it'll take more than a bit of fire to take him down."

She pulled out a washcloth and soaked it in some water from the stream before dabbing it on some of the worst of his burns.

"I'll make sure he's comfortable and try what little magic I can to speed things up a bit," Delphine continued. "Why don't you and Lydia get a fire going and get us something to eat? The sun's almost starting to set anyways."

She was right – it was late afternoon, and darkness would almost be upon them. They needed to make a fire to stay warm. Although, they'd have to make sure to keep it away from Esbern whilst his wounds were still healing.

"Poor Esbern…" Lydia murmured as they walked away and left Delphine to tend to him.

"Mmm," Atrius agreed. "That was some nasty fire."

"What about you - are you alright?" Lydia asked him. "I know you took your fair share of heat yourself."

"I'm fine," he brushed away her concern. "My armour was thick enough to stop most of the heat. I managed to escape with a few singed armhairs at most."

"That's good."

It was a few hours later before either of them spoke again. They'd made dinner for all four of them directly under the stars, out of earshot but within sight of the stone which Esbern was now recovering on. Delphine had succumbed to rest, lying down at Esbern's side, although they weren't convinced she was fully asleep just yet.

"Do you think we should check on them?" Lydia asked Atrius, noticing he was watching the pair.

"No," he told her, looking away again and poking a stick aimlessly into the dwindling flames. "I think it's best to leave them alone for tonight."

"I think you're right," Lydia agreed. "Let's stay out here then – if anything nasty comes along, you and I will be the first to know and we'll be able to defend them."

She unrolled her own furs and set them out on the ground.

"Goodnight, my Thane."

"Goodnight Lydia."

"Ah, I see you're finally awake!" a familiar voice called out to them the next morning.

"Esbern," Atrius said happily, opening his eyes to see Esbern smiling and standing over him.

"You look well," Atrius added, sitting up in his sleeping roll and accepting a slice of bread from the man. Delphine had set him up in a new pair of clothes, and from what Atrius could see, there was no scarring whatsoever from yesterdays burns.

"Yes, Delphine tells me you acted quickly yesterday," Esbern hummed. "I must say – I wasn't ever expecting to have to fight a dragon."

"And I hope you never have to again," Delphine called out to them, bag packed and ready to resume their journey.

"We couldn't have taken it down without you, Esbern," Lydia said, walking past and patting him on the shoulder. "You were the only one who could manage to get a shot in at first. If not for you, it might not have been weak enough to take down at all."

"Ah, I'm sure you would have managed just fine," Esbern kindly assured her. "After all – if the Dragonborn isn't able to take down a dragon, then just who can?"

He winked at Atrius before turning to catch up with Delphine.

Atrius sat there for a moment. It was hard to imagine that not even three months had gone by since he was sitting comfortably in the Imperial City, no thoughts of dragons or battles on his mind. Now here he was, covered in soot and holding the hope of the world on his shoulders. Inexplicably, he felt much less pressure than he ever had before.

The entrance to Sky Haven Temple lay high above ground, close to the river Delphine had mentioned as they were leaving Riverwood. But it was clear that the entrance wasn't going to be easy to get past – the pathway led upwards and further entry was on elevated ground, but the bridge to get across was drawn up. Something would have to release it. Atrius saw three pillars on the stone ledge in front of them – clearly a sort of puzzle, like the ones he'd seen back in those Nordic ruins. It seemed so long ago now. He knew these would be the key, but he had no idea what the symbols on them meant or what the consquences would be for making a wrong move. He decided to let Esbern take the wheel.

"Do you know what any of this means?" he asked Esbern, watching as he leaned close and squinted at the markings inscribed on the side of the pillars.

"Yes…" Esbern murmed in response. "Definitely Akaviri stonework here."

He grabbed one of the pillars experimentally and twisted it anti-clockwise, revealing another symbol on the other side.

"Let's see…you have the symbol for King…and Warrior…and Dragonborn."

"Of course," Atrius interrupted. "You said this place is supposed to give us an entire library of Akaviri information on dragons, right?"

"Yes, well…that is the idea of it," Esbern replied, straightening himself up once more.

"If that's the case," Atrius continued, "then I'm betting the Dragonborn symbol is going to be the key here. After all, the person most likely to be looking for information about dragons would be the Dragonborn. What did you say the symbol looked like?"

"Ah, of course," Esbern smiled. "It's the one that appears to have a sort of arrow shape pointing toward the bottom – this one."

He gestured to one of the pillars already aligned with the marking. Atrius moved forward and began to twist the pillars, just as he had seen Esbern do.

"My guess is…ah-ha!"

The stone bridge shifted, and they all jumped out of the way before it came crashing down on the platform.

"Whatever you did, it worked!" Delphine exclaimed. "Let's see what else those old Blades left in our way…"

With Atrius taking the lead, they continued onwards, another puzzle greeting them on the next level – this one containing what could only be described as floor buttons. Each platform looked as if it would move underfoot, and each one had one of the same previous symbols inscribed upon it – king, warrior, and Dragonborn.

"Wait a moment," Atrius muttered to the group.

He tentatively placed one foot on a Dragonborn button in front of him, following up by cautiously shifting his entire weight onto it. He heard a click, but there didn't appear to be any averse consequences for his actions.

"The buttons with the Dragonborn symbol – I think they mark a safe way across the floor."

"These Akaviri people sure were paranoid…" Lydia complained as they made their way safely through the room following the markings. "All these traps and puzzles just to protect an old library…"

"You speak too carelessly on the matter," Esbern reprimanded her. "I know only too well how important it is to protect ancient secrets from those who would have them destroyed. Or worse. If it weren't for the caution of the Akaviri people, Sky Haven Temple may have been plundered and ruined many years ago. And then we would be left with nothing."

Onwards and upwards they continued, until they came to what looked like the real, honest-to-goodness entrance to the Temple. The way through was directly in front of them, but it was sealed by a large stone sculpture of a face. Atrius attempted to push it forward, but it wouldn't budge.

"You won't find a way in by doing that," Esbern chuckled at his attempts. He was gazing admirably at the stone formations, walking by and allowing his hand to glide past the smooth-cut stones. "Remarkable…and wonderfully well-preserved too."

"Esbern," Delphine snapped him back to reality. "You'll only get to admire more of it if we can make it inside. How do we get this door open?"

"Ah, of course," Esbern said, breaking out of trance-like state and wandering over to a spiral design built into the floor in front of the entrance.

"Here's the blood seal," he told them, kneeling down and tracing his fingers along the patterns. "Another of the lost Akaviri arts. No doubt triggered by…well, blood."

"Alright then," Delphine said, as she started forward and pulled out her sword.

"Ah-ah-ah, no!" Esbern yelled, as he tried to stop her from breaking open her own skin. "Do you think the Akaviri were a people who would let just anyone in on their secrets? This door will only open in response to the blood of someone they could trust – the Dragonborn, who would use their secrets for good and out of necessity."

"What makes you think it's going to know I'm Dragonborn?" Atrius asked him as Delphine stowed her sword away.

"Your blood is, well…unusual," Esbern informed him. "It contains not just the blood of Nord, or of man, but also the blood of dragons themselves. The stone isn't just stone – it resonates power, an ancient art lost to us. The seal will know it's a friend that's knocking when it tastes your blood, Dragonborn. Then it will open for you."

"Do you mean to say that I'm part dragon?" Atrius asked him, a shocked and horrified expression on his face. He didn't want to start sprouting wings and scales if he could help it.

Esbern sighed.

"No…it's not quite as simple as that. In fact, the situation is a rather complex one. You won't ever BE a dragon-"

Atrius let out a sigh of relief.

"-but you will always have some of their blood, some of their power."

"Alright then," Atrius breathed, pulling out one of his arrows and kneeling down on the seal. "If you say the seal knows…"

He winced in pain as he dug the tip of the arrow into his palm and let the blood flow from his hand. At the first drop the seal lit up with a bright light, and the stone doorway lifted backwards, revealing a narrow and dark stairway into the Temple.

"Here."

Lydia knelt down beside him and wrapped his wounded hand in a leather strip to stop the bleeding.

"You did it," Delphine whispered in awe as she walked over and stood near the entrance. "Look, the Temple is just through here!"

They joined her there, and waited to follow her lead, but she gestured for Atrius to enter first.

"After you, Dragonborn," she smiled at him. "You should have the honour of being the first to set foot in Sky Haven Temple."

Atrius wasn't entirely sure it was a gesture he deserved, knowing how little appreciation he would have for the history of it all – after all, he just wanted to know how to beat the dragons. But Delphine and Esbern, ever the traditionalists, insisted he be the first to go inside.

The gates were marked by the Dragonborn symbol, a clear welcome sign for Atrius to enter. He pushed open the iron double-gates and made his way into the Temple.

It was dark, the only light provided being those of the torches held by Delphine and Esbern. It was also cold, the dark stone providing little heat to the Temple. Eventually the stairway led into a wide open space with a grand long table – one suited for a king's dining room – and a great stone wall behind it, easily ten times the length of Atrius' height stretched out.

"Shor's bones, here it is!" Esbern exclaimed as he made his way over to the wall. "Alduin's Wall…so well preserved! I've never seen a finer example of Akaviri scupltural relief…"

He lit a fire pit next to the wall with his torch, and light flooded the entire room.

"Isn't it amazing?" he asked Atrius.

"I just want to know how to defeat Alduin," Atrius shrugged.

"Ah, of course," Esbern replied. "Not everyone has an appreciation for the artistic wonders of the world. Let me see if I can find the right panel…"

He spent a few moments examining the wall in silence.

"So? What do you think?" Lydia siddled over to Atrius and was now whispering to him whilst Esbern went to work. "Do you think this will help us stop Alduin?"

"I sure hope so," Atrius answered her. "It'd be a comfort to have a bit of know-how behind me before I have to go in and take him down. I don't want to think it's just me all alone in this."

"You're never alone."

Lydia smiled up at him and gave him a gentle squeeze of her hand.

"Ah! Here it is!" Esbern cried out.

They snapped their attention back towards him.

"Alduin's defeat is the centerpiece of this wall. You see, here he is – falling from the sky. The Nord tongues – the Masters of the Voice – arrayed against him."

"So does it tell us how to defeat him?" Delphine interrupted.

"Patience, my dear," Esbern hummed at her. "The Akaviri were not a straightforward people. Everything is couched in allegory and mythic symbolism."

In that case, it was beginning to become clear why Esbern had such a fascination with them. The Akaviri sounded like kindred spirits.

"Yes, yes, this here – coming from the mouths of the Nord heroes," Esbern translated for them. "This is the Akaviri symbol for a shout. But…there's no way to know what shout is meant."

He sighed in a dejected manner.

"You mean they used a shout to defeat Alduin?" Delphine asked, sounding skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Hmm?" Esbern responded, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh – yes. Presumably something rather specific to dragons, or even Alduin himself."

"Have you ever heard of such a thing?" Delphine asked Atrius. "A shout that can knock a dragon out of the sky?"

"The Greybeards might know," Atrius suggested. He assumed that if there were such a shout, only the Greybeards would be able to teach it to him, as they had with other shouts when they were training him.

"You're probably right…" Delphine muttered. "Argh, I was hoping to avoid having to involve them in this, but it seems we have no choice."

"Out of curiosity – what do you have against the Greybeards?" Lydia asked her, leaning casually against the table with folded arms.

"If they had their way, Atrius would do nothing but sit up on their mountain with them and…and talk to the sky, or whatever it is they do," Delphine answered her. "The Greybeards are so afraid of power that they won't use it. Think about it – have they tried to stop the civil war, or done anything about Alduin?"

She turned back to Atrius.

"They haven't – and they're afraid of you and your power. Trust me," she said, looking intently at him, "there's no need to be afraid."

"Don't worry," Atrius assured her. "I'm not afraid of my own power."

"Good," Delphine responded, appearing satisfied. "The Greybeards can teach you a lot, but don't let them turn you away from your destiny. You're Dragonborn, and you're the only one who can stop Alduin. Don't forget it."

Yeah. No pressure.


	10. The Throat of the World

**CHAPTER TEN – THE THROAT OF THE WORLD**

As it turned out, Delphine and Esbern both made the decision to stay at Sky Haven Temple permanently.

"Nobody else knows where it is, not even the Thalmor," Delphine reasoned. "We'll be completely safe and protected while we run our operations out of here. Even if they do find us, it'll be impossible for them to find a way in."

What those operations were, Atrius had no idea. Delphine suggested they might find ways to help him with this dragon business. And there were plenty of writings inscribed in stone for Esbern to examine. But Delphine also had other plans – plans to restore the Blades to their former glory. Now that they had a Dragonborn to serve, the Blades had a purpose once more.

Atrius and Lydia stayed three days in the Temple. Delphine had located a set of Akaviri armour. She insisted it was Atrius' ceremonial right to take it. Atrius wasn't complaining – it was a fine set of armour. Old as it was, it had never rusted within what Esbern had referred to as the "remarkably well-preserved" Temple, and the craftsmanship was exceptional. He would wear it with pride.

They set off for High Hrothgar the morning of the third day. Delphine and Esbern accompanied them as far as Rorikstead to gather supplies for themselves. After that, they headed back to the Temple and left Atrius and Lydia to travel alone to High Hrothgar once more.

"Are you sure you'll be able to get back through the door?" Atrius asked them before parting ways. "Remember – the door only answered to my blood."

"Ah, you forget just how remarkable Akaviri magic is," Esbern replied. "The door may only open to the Dragonborn initially, yes – but we were your guests. The door remembers friends of the Dragonborn."

"Well, if all goes south, I suppose I could bottle up a vial of my blood for you to use as you need to," Atrius joked.

He turned to Delphine and addressed her directly.

"Thank you, Delphine. I wouldn't have made it this far if you hadn't manipulated me into meeting with you."

She laughed at him.

"Well, if you ever need any more manipulation, you know where to find me."

Atrius hugged her briefly before turning to leave.

"Take care," Delphine said to them, "Lydia, Dragonborn. I expect we'll meet again soon."

"We will," Atrius replied. "Safe journeys."

"And to you."

"How long has it been since we were last here?" Lydia yawned as she kicked off her boots and stretched out on her bed. They'd stopped over in Whiterun for the night, taking the opportunity to get some rest and relaxation out in the busy streets – a small luxury they'd neglected for some time.

"I guess it's been…a few weeks at least," Atrius replied to her. "How does it feel to be back?"

"Normal, I guess," Lydia shrugged. "I mean, I know the city well. It's the only home I've ever had. But at the same time, I've never really had a place that felt like what a home should feel like."

"And what should a home feel like?" Atrius asked.

"Well, what does it feel like for you?"

"For me? Huh…"

Atrius thought back to his days in the Imperial City. He remembered the stone walls, the thick royal curtains of his bedroom and the cotton blankets. And then he thought of his parents – the warmth in his mother's arms, but the strength of her courage and resolution. His father's unwavering conviction and leadership. His love and respect for the both of them. That was home.

"Home is…family," he explained to her. "Home is a place where you know you have people who are waiting on you to return. And when they're gone, you're waiting on them. Home is a sanctuary where you feel safe in the arms of those who love you and are loved by you. It's a place of peace and comfort, where all the troubles that exist outside of it can disappear. It's a place you wish you never had to leave – but a place you're always glad to come back to."

"That's really home?" Lydia asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It is," he whispered back. "Do you feel it?"

"No," she replied honestly. "But I think I'm almost there whenever I'm with you."

Atrius smiled to himself. Ever since his da had passed, he'd been missing that part about home. But going on this journey with Lydia – it was like having family again. And he was almost home with her too.

Their second journey to High Hrothgar was thankfully much less eventful than their first one had been. The path remained clear all the way up barring the occasional scampering fox and reverent pilgrim, although those 7, 000 steps sure left the both of them panting by the time they'd reached their destination. Atrius decided to meet with Arngeir alone this time whilst Lydia trained in another part of the monastery. The Greybeard was pleased to have the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller in his possession, but much less pleased to hear what Atrius had been doing with his time away.

"I need to learn the shout used to defeat Alduin," Atrius informed him after returning the Horn.

"Where did you learn of that?" Arngeir snapped suddenly. "Who have you been talking to?"

"It was recorded on Alduin's Wall," Atrius answered. He didn't understand why Arngeir was becoming so angry all of a sudden. What was the big deal about wanting to prevent the end of the world?

"The Blades! Of course," Arngeir concluded. "They specialise in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades to be used for their own purposes?"

"The Blades just want to defeat Alduin," Atrius argued. "Don't you?"

"What I want is irrelevant!" Arngeir declared in anger. "This shout was used once before, was it not? And here we are again. Have you considered that Alduin was not meant to be defeated?"

"So what, this has all been a waste of time?" Atrius yelled. "You've just been teaching me all these things so that I can die along with the rest of the world and have them all mean nothing?"

"Those who overthrew Alduin in ancient times only postponed the day of reckoning, they did not stop it!" Arngeir countered. "If the world is meant to end, so be it. Let it end and be reborn."

"So you won't help me?" Atrius asked, folding his arms.

"No. Not now," Arngeir replied stubbornly. "Not until you return to the path of wisdom."

A rumbling and a loud, but clear and haunting whisper echoed through the halls – Master Einarth was walking towards them and glaring at Arngeir. Atrius had never heard the Greybeards converse with one another. The exchange shook the halls. It was frightening to behold. No wonder the people down below in Ivarstead seemed terrified of them. They could likely cause the entire mountain to collapse if they had any inclination to do so. When it was over, Einarth disappeared back into the shadows, and Arngeir turned to face Atrius once more.

"Forgive me," he conceded. "I was…intemperate. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement. Master Einarth reminded me of my duty. The decision whether or not to help you is not mine to make."

"So, can you teach me this shout?" Atrius pressed him.

"No," Arngeir replied shortly. "I cannot teach it to you because I do not know it. It is called Dragonrend, but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss – Dragonrend holds no place within the Way of the Voice."

"I thought you knew all the Words of Power," Atrius said, both disappointed and surprised.

"But not Dragonrend," Arngeir answered. "The knowledge of that shout was lost in time before history began. Perhaps only its creators ever knew it. But I am not the one to speak of it to you."

"If the shout is lost, how can I defeat Alduin?"

They couldn't come to a dead-end here after all the things they'd done and been through. It couldn't all be for nothing.

"Only Paarthurnax, the master of our order, can answer that question, if he so chooses," Arngeir responded.

"I need to speak to Paarthurnax then," Atrius ordered him. He knew he was pushing it, but he was getting impatient. And besides, Arngeir had already admitted he was wrong not to help him.

Arngeir sighed as if he'd rather reprimand Atrius than give into his demands – it's likely that this was a true reflection of his inner state. However, he was bound by duty, as Einharth had only just reminded him.

"You weren't ready. You still aren't ready. But, thanks to the Blades, you now have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer."

"Where is Paarthurnax?"

"He lives in seclusion on the very peak of the mountain," Arngeir informed Atrius. "He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders. Being allowed to see him is a great privilege."

"Great," Atrius said, picking up his gear. "Then I'm off to the peak of the mountain."

"Not so hasty, Dragonborn," Argneir stopped him. Atrius stalled and turned around to face him once again. "You will not find the way so easy. Only those whose Voice is strong can find the path. We will teach you a new shout to open the way to Paarthurnax. Your training will begin again tomorrow. Until then, I can only hope you meditate on your course of action and return to the path of wisdom."

It wasn't going to happen – Atrius and Arngeir clearly had very different ideas regarding the definition of wisdom. Atrius' definition involved taking action when it was in his power to prevent the destruction of the world. But this conversation was wearisome to him – he turned once more and left to find Lydia without another word.

"Is everything alright?" Lydia asked Atrius as he stumbled into their room. She'd clearly decided to make an early end to her training today. "I heard raised voices. And you look…you look angry."

She stared into his face, as if examining him and trying to read his thoughts.

"Everything is fine," Atrius huffed. "Delphine was just right about the Greybeards is all. Afraid of power…but they've agreed to help me. A little unwillingly, but they have agreed."

"So they'll teach you a shout to defeat Alduin?"

"No, they don't know it," he replied.

"You're kidding…"

"Apparently it was lost."

"So what are you going to do then?"

"They're going to allow me to meet their leader – some guy named Paarthurnax who lives at the peak of the mountain."

"Alright," Lydia said, springing up from the chair she sat. "So when do we head off?"

"The Greybeards said they're going to have to teach me a new shout," Atrius told her. "They'll have to train me for a few more days."

"Do you think they're just stalling you?" Lydia asked him.

"It doesn't matter," he replied, kicking off his boots and falling back on his bed. "Maybe they're right, the way could be dangerous. In any case if they keep coming up with excuses I'll just go up there anyways. I don't think they'd like it, but I also don't think they'd try and stop me."

There was a pause.

"This is one of those times where I can't follow you, isn't it?" Lydia asked him.

Atrius sighed heavily.

"I think so," he said to her. "It's entirely possible that the way is shut to anyone who doesn't possess the Voice. And besides – the Greybeards were reluctant to let even me go and see Paarthurnax at all. I can only imagine it would be even less so for you, no offence. As much as I'm a little frustrated with them right now, I think we have to give them that."

"Yes, that's probably wise," Lydia agreed. "We don't want to fall completely out of their graces just yet."

"No. No, we don't."

The day to meet Paarthurnax arrived later that same week. Arngeir had – with much complaint and sternness - taught Atrius a new shout, one to clear the skies of poor weather effects. Atrius had wondered what on earth he would need this for, earning this for his warning - that the mist on the way up was so thick that anyone else who attempted to climb the summit without possessing the right skill would end up lost and die of the cold. But with this new shout, he was ready. Lydia was there that day to see him off.

"I'll be okay," he assured her. "It's only a short way and I expect to be back soon."

"I know." She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her lips before letting him go. "Just don't run into any frost trolls."

He chuckled lightly at the memory of his poor judgement that day.

I'll have a meal waiting for you when you return."

"I'd like that. You're a faithful housecarl, Lydia."

She smiled at him and watched as he set out into the deep mist.

Immediately after passing through the gate that marked the way, he knew why he'd been warned about the dangers of the mist. The chill was of a kind that settled right into his bones. He was glad that Lydia had not insisted on coming with him. It was so cold he almost didn't even feel cold at all – it was easy to see how someone could die up here. His own body would shut down if he didn't keep moving.

"LOK – VAH – KOOR!" Atrius shouted into the void. The mist around him cleared up immediately and he could see a clear path. He followed this path upwards and upwards for what felt like an hour before reaching a landing that looked like the summit. That was when a familiar dark shadow flew over him, the trademark gust of wind alerting his senses to a danger he'd come to know too well.

Atrius reacted quickly, pulling out his bow and hoping to the gods the dragon hadn't noticed him. It had – although, something was strange about this one. It wasn't aggressive or trying to attack Atrius at all. In fact, it came in to land calmly and gently right next to him, not at all afraid or defensive. As if this wasn't strange enough, it then did the unthinkable – it spoke! And not just in dragon tongue like all the other dragons seemed to be able to do, but human speech.

"Drem Yol Lok," it growled at him. "Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah…my mountain?"

"You're the master of the Greybeards?" Atrius gasped.

"They see me as master," Paarthurnax answered. "Wuth. Onik. Old and wise. It is true I am old. Tell me – why do you come here, volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?"

"I need to learn the Dragonrend shout," Atrius responded, still slightly shaken. He wondered vaguely if the mist and altitude were affecting him, or if was just shock. "Can you teach me?"

The dragon growled again before speaking.

"I do not know the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. I cannot be known to me. Your kind – joore, mortals – created it as a weapon against the dov…the dragons. Our hadrimme – our minds – cannot even comprehend its concepts."

Through all his surprise, Atrius was beginning to get annoyed – and desperate. What could he do to stop Alduin when he kept running into dead ends all the time?

"How can I learn it, then?" he asked Paarthurnax.

"Drem. All in good time," the dragon hummed, clearly in no hurry to see the world saved from certain doom. "First, a question for you. Why do you want to learn this Thu'um?"

"I like this world," Atrius replied matter-of-factly. "I don't want it to end."

"Pruzah. A good a reason as any," Paarthurnax answered him. "There are many who feel as you do, although not all…"

" _The Greybeards…"_ Atrius thought to himself.

"Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass," Paarthurnax continued. "Perhaps this world is simply the egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?"

"The next world will have to take care of itself," Atrius responded. As long as this one was still here, he was going to continue to defend it. The gods hadn't given him dragon blood as a joke or coincidence. He had to believe that.

"Paaz. A fair answer," Paarthurnax conceded. "Ro fus…maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world. Even we who ride the currents of time cannot see past time's end. Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis. Those who try and hasten the end may delay it. Those who work to delay the end may bring it closer. But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven – what you name the Throat of the World?"

"No?" What a weird question to follow from that. "Dragons like mountains, right?"

"True," said Paarthurnax with a slight chuckle. "But few now remember that this was the very spot where Alduin was defeated by the ancient tongues. Vahrukt unslaad. Perhaps none but me now remember how he was defeated."

"Using the Dragonrend shout, right?" Atrius asked him, finally settling down enough to take a seat on a nearby stone. He was beginning to enjoy his chat with Paarthurnax – it reminded him of work back in the Imperial City debating rights and ethics with other chamber members. However, like any conversation with an aging man with an active mind but too little opportunity to share it, Atrius sensed that this conversation with Paarthurnax might take a while.

"Yes and no," Paarthurnax growled. "Viik nuz ni kron. Alduin was not truly defeated, either. If he was, you would not be here today seeking to defeat him. The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel – the Elder Scroll. They used it to…cast him adrift on the currents of time.

"Are you saying that the ancient Nords sent Alduin forward in time?" Atrius asked in amazement. He had known from his lessons as a boy that the Elder Scrolls held great power and were capable of doing amazing things…but he had never guessed they could be used to do something like this…

"Not intentionally," Paarthurnax answered. "Some hoped he would be gone forever, forever lost. Meyye. I knew better. Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward. One day he would surface. Which is why I have lived here. For thousands of mortal years I have waited. I knew where he would emerge, but not when."

"How does any of this help me?"

"Tiid krent. Time was shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll back here…to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time Wound…with the Elder Sroll that was used to break time, you may be able to cast yourself back to the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."

Right. So Atrius needed to find an Elder Scroll – this specific Elder Scroll – one of the rarest items he's ever heard of in existence and usually locked under the strictest guard in the Imperial City, bring it here, and somehow use it to cast himself back in time. That sounded simple enough.

"Do you…do you at least know where I could find that Elder Scroll?" he asked the dragon.

"Krosis," Paarthurnax shook his head. "No. I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived here. You are likely better informed than I."

Fantastic. It didn't make much sense to Atrius that Paarthurnax would be so pre-occupied about Alduin's return that he would restrict himself to a single mountain for thousands of years in anticipation of the event, but then not even bother to keep track of the one important tools which started this whole mess in the first place and would likely be instrumental in undoing it all. But it is what it is.

"Hmm," Atrius muttered after some thought. "Esbern or Argneir might have some idea."

"Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax advised him. "Your blood will show you the way."

Trust his instincts, indeed. Atrius would certainly have a lot to tell Lydia when he got back.


	11. AUTHOR UPDATE

p style="text-align: center;"Hi Readers!/p  
p style="text-align: center;"Just wanted to give a quick update - life has been crazy busy! Currently working and studying with exams coming up, plus a packed social life. It's all really good stuff, but has left me with next to no time for writing. I try and make a little bit of progress on the story each day, but sometimes it's pretty slow going and it will probably stay like that for the next three weeks. Please don't be alarmed at the slowness of updating! I have no intention of abandoning this story as I am having soo much fun writing it! I only wish that I had more time in the day so I could work on it more. As I said, I am making progress - just very, very slowly at the moment./p  
p style="text-align: center;"Thanks for your patience for the next few weeks while I attend to the hectic-ness that is the real world! I'll be updating whenever possible and hopefully in a few weeks time I'll be able to do so more frequently. /p  
p style="text-align: center;"Thanks for reading! /p  
p style="text-align: center;"- phoenixtat2517/p 


	12. Elder Knowledge

**CHAPTER ELEVEN – ELDER KNOWLEDGE**

"The leader of the Greybeards is a _what_?"

By the end of his conversation with Paarthurnax, Atrius would've been quite pleased to converse with him for a little while longer on the peak of the mountain. He'd grown to become rather fond of their intellectual debate. However, Atrius also knew that Alduin wasn't going to wait for him to enjoy a little philosophical chat before deciding to consume the world, and Lydia wasn't going to be happy if he stayed out of range of her ability to provide her services to him any longer than he had to.

He and the housecarl in question were now enjoying horker stew by the hearth in the monastery whilst Atrius relayed to her the events of that day and what he now knew.

"He's a dragon," Atrius repeated, taking a sip of his stew. "But it's strange – he's not quite like the others. He seemed to be willing to help."

"I'm not so sure…" Lydia murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think about it," she elaborated, setting her empty bowl of stew down on the ground beside her. "Alduin is the one who's been raising dragons in the first place. Which means this Paarthurnax couldn't possibly have been around all that time. What if he's a trap? What if the dragons have realised they can't beat you using brute force, so now they're getting clever and trying to trick you into using a dangerous artefact like an Elder Scroll? You grew up in the Imperial City, which means you probably know more about them than anyone in Skryim. You know how badly this could backfire. Do you really think we can take Paarthurnax at his word?"

"I don't know if this is genuine or if Paarthurnax is laying a trap for me," Atrius admitted. "But I do know he isn't one of the dragons that was resurrected by Alduin."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because of the Greybeards," Atrius stated. "You know how untrusting they are, how…well, for a lack of a better word, how vain they are. If a dragon strolled up just before I did and claimed it wanted to be their leader, I think they'd have a few objections surrounding that. They barely only let me join their order, even though they were expecting me or someone like me. But no one has seen a dragon for thousands of years. For that reason, I believe Paarthurnax when he says he's been sitting on the mountain since Alduin's disappearance."

Lydia bit her lower lip in thought.

"That might make sense," she conceded. "But still – how do you know Paarthurnax isn't on Aduin's side? If anything, I think that would be the most likely scenario. He's a dragon, just like Alduin."

"Like, I said – I don't know," Atrius stated bluntly. "But it's the only lead we have without making a trek halfway across Skyrim to see if Delphine and Esbern have dug anything else up in the small amount of time we've been gone. Meanwhile, for all we know, Alduin goes stronger and stronger. I don't really want to stake the fate of the world on a bet that Paarthurnax might be a racist."

"This is just like back in Riften with Brynjolf," Lydia huffed in annoyance, leaning forward and placing her head in her hands. "It's a waste of time, and possibly your life."

"No. It's like back in Riverwood," Atrius responded in a soft voice. "Where we gained an ally and newfound conviction."

A few moments of silence passed between them before Lydia spoke up again.

"So where to next, then? Are we going back to your home – the Imperial City? I would love to see it…you've told me so many wonderful things, and I've never been anywhere outside of Skyrim."

"Ah, I would rather not if we could avoid it," Atrius laughed awkwardly. "It's not going to be easy to explain to my employers that I've been gone for the past few months because I'm the hero of some ancient Nord legend and I need to borrow an Elder Scroll so I can save the world. They'll think I've gone mad. I don't even have the authority to gain access to any of the Scrolls to begin with, and even if I did – I've never heard of a dragon Scroll being stored anywhere in Cyrodiil. The locations of some scrolls are still lost, and I suspect this is one of them."

"Where does that leave us, then?" Lydia asked him.

"Well, I was hoping this might be where you come in," Atrius replied. "If there's anyone in Skyrim who might possibly know the whereabouts of an Elder Scroll – anyone at all – who do you think it would be?"

Lydia frowned in thought for a moment.

"Well...there might be some theories amongst those belonging to some of the daedric cults or other fringe groups, although I doubt it. The scrolls have everything to do with the gods, which is something they're vehemently against. And I'm sure if the Greybeards had one, we'd have seen or at least heard about it by now. Delphine or Esbern might have some idea, but I'd be more willing to wager my bets on someone at the College of Winterhold having something to say."

"What's the College of Winterhold?" Atrius asked her curiously.

"It's some sort of…mages school. Apprentices with an aptitude for magic go there to study and improve themselves, or make important discoveries about magic."

"Right…so this is like Skyrim's answer to the Arcane University in Cyrodiil?"

"I don't really know, My Thane, but if it helps you to think of it that way…I suppose that is the general idea."

"Right then. I guess tomorrow we're headed for Winterhold."

Atrius and Lydia left before dawn the next morning. The Greybeards hadn't seen them since Atrius had gone off in search of Paarthurnax, and neither did they want to speak to them too soon after their recent disagreements. Atrius was sure that the unease would pass – they all just needed some time and space. Leaving a note explaining that they had left for unspecified reasons, they took their belongings and made for Whiterun. From there, they caught a carriage to Winterhold.

"You didn't tell me what a damn freezing place this was…" Atrius growled through gritted teeth as they made their way towards the inn on arrival. It was after dark, and their boots sank deep into the snow.

"I hardly knew myself," Lydia snapped back at him. "I hardly ever left Whiterun, so most of my knowledge of other holds comes from education and traveller's stories."

"Did they never talk about the weather?" Atrius asked her in a sarcastic tone.

"Of course they did!" she protested. "But it's cold everywhere in Skyim! I didn't think it would be anything a Nord couldn't handle."

Atrius sniffed loudly in disbelief.

"Oh, stop your milk-drinking," Lydia scolded him. "Come on, there'll be a warm fire in the inn. We can pick up some furs tomorrow."

There was indeed a fire in the inn, although it was so empty that the life and warmth seemed to be sucked right out of the room. Besides the barkeep, only one man inhabited the shared space, drinking to excess alone in a corner of the room. They approached the barkeep, who looked thoroughly bored and eager to serve any guest he could.

"Anything I can get you?" he asked them. "Food? Drink? A place to sleep?"

"All of the above, please," Lydia replied, handing over a bag of septims.

"Thank you," the man replied, accepting the gold. "Take a seat by the fire and I'll bring you your meals."

No sooner than they had sat down, Atrius and Lydia heard a loud bang coming from one of the larger rooms. They jumped and turned around to see what the commotion was, but only a sheepish looking high elf emerged from the chaos. A terse exchange was made between the elf and the barkeep, the latter clearly unhappy about what had just happened. He was accusing the elf of something. Atrius couldn't hear exactly what was said, but he did make out the word "college."

"My apologies about Nelacar…" the barkeep grumbled, returning a short while later and setting down some food and drink at the table. "He's a long-term guest, likes to perform magic experiments in his room. I'd kick him out, but, well…you see how quiet it is. We don't see many people passing through Winterhold. Business is just about dead up here."

"Did I hear you mentioning a college?" Atrius asked him.

"What? Oh! Yes," the barkeep replied. "Are you on your way up there?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," Atrius informed him. "Do you think you could point us in the right direction?"

"Of course," the man responded kindly. "When you leave here, turn left and follow the path. When you come to the end of it, you'll see a stone pathway leading up to a great stone fortress. That's the college."

They thanked him for their meals and ate them in peace before retiring for the night.

Atrius and Lydia arrived at the gate of the college the next morning, already wearing new furs they'd bought from a poor woman running a variety store in town. Atrius suspected that the only reason she hadn't gone out of business was because she was the only store in town. They made their way up the stone path to the college, but found their way blocked by a female Altmer.

"Cross the bridge at your own peril!" she warned them. "The way is dangerous and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"

"Is something wrong?" Atrius asked her. She was having a mighty fine reaction to their arrival – was there a college experiment that had gone awry?

"No," she huffed haughtily at him, folding her arms. "We don't let any outsider into the college. There are secrets here that would be dangerous in the hands of the understudied. I am here to assist those who wish to enter the college. And, if in the process, my presence helps to deter those who might seek to do it harm, so be it."

Atrius was under the impression that she did the job of deterring much better than the job of assisting. He wasn't looking to do any harm at all, but he was certainly beginning to feel like a criminal all the same.

"May we enter the college?" Atrius asked her, as formally and politely as he could so as to give off the impression that he was more than a common thug looking to cause trouble.

"Not just anyone is allowed inside," she reminded him. "Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skill with magic."

" _Aww, no…."_ Atrius thought to himself. Unless this woman was willing to watch him enchant something, he was never going to gain entrance to the college. He was a dunce at every other form of magic, a fact all the lessons his da had provided for him as a boy had never been able to improve.

"We're not looking to become students!" he protested. "We're here on…other business."

"If you're not looking to become students of the arcane, then I have even less reason to allow you entry," the woman replied coolly.

"Would you grant entry to the Dragonborn?" Lydia interjected, as if reading Atrius' thoughts and his predicament.

"Dragonborn?" the elf repeated, her eyes narrowing. "It's been so long since we've had contact with the Greybeards…do you really have the Voice? I would be most impressed to see that."

Atrius wasn't much interested in impressing this Altmer – he was beginning to dislike the entire lot of them – but all he really cared about at the moment was gaining entry to the college. He turned his face to the sky.

"YOL!"

A great flame just like the ones that come from the mouths of dragons lit up the sky above Atrius and Lydia, flooding them in its warmth.

"So the stories are true!" the elf gasped in amazement. "You are Dragonborn!"

"Yes, he is," Lydia said in irritation. "Will you stop this nonsense now and let us past?"

The elven guard looked as if she'd just been slapped in the faced, but she offered no further argument. She led them up the narrow stone pathway above the sea and opened the gates to the college that lay at the top.

The college itself was grand, but dull and weathered. On the outside, it looked as if it had stood without care or maintenance for some time. On the inside, however, it was embellished with the finest of furnishings and comforts.

They were directed to the Arcanaeum on arrival, which housed the college's entire collection of magical books and scrolls. It was said to be run by an elderly and grouchy Orsimer named Urag gro-Shub. And grouchy he was, for upon entry he made it very clear to Atrius and Lydia what the ground rules of this library were.

"You are now in the Arcanaeum of which I am in charge," he growled at them, with not a single word of introduction. "It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum and I will have you torn apart by angry atronachs."

Atrius and Lydia exchanged uncertain glances.

"Now," the Orc continued, his tone lighter. "Do you require assistance?"

"Uhhh…yeah, I'm looking for an Elder Scroll," Atrius informed him, a little uncertain about the sudden change in tone.

"And just what do you plan to do with it?" Urag growled, his menacing air returning once more. "Do you even know what you're asking about, or are you just someone's errand boy?"

"Of course he knows what he's asking about!" Lydia interrupted angrily. "Just give us an answer - do you have an Elder Scroll or not?"

Urag huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

"I like her," he said to Atrius, nodding in Lydia's direction. "She's not a milk-drinker. Doesn't stutter when she speaks. Unlike some. No, I don't have an Elder Scroll here, and even if I did, do you think that I would really let you see it? It would be kept under the highest security. The greatest thief in the world wouldn't be able to lay a finger on it."

"Well, maybe the Gray Fox could do it…" Atrius interceded.

"And just what in Oblivion is the Gray Fox?" Urag asked, confusion lining his face.

"Never mind," Atrius muttered. He'd forgotten that he was now in farthest reaches of Skyrim and away from the land he'd grown up in. Of course a reclusive old Orsimer librarian in a magical college wasn't going to know about the time the Gray Fox stole an Elder Scroll from the Imperial City, a feat no one had been able to explain or replicate, despite the Imperial Palace's best attempts to do so. Atrius knew he certainly wouldn't be able to use the same methods to find the Scroll he was seeking. But then he had another idea.

"If you did have such a Scroll, would you be willing to show it to the Dragonborn?" he asked. Perhaps Urag was lying – after all, if any Scroll at the college were to indeed be kept under the highest security, it wouldn't be completely unreasonable to assume that deception and deniability would be the simplest measures used in protecting it. The only place where the location of Elder Scrolls is public knowledge is the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. But maybe these rules could be relaxed at the behest of a fabled hero.

"Wait, are you…you were the one the Greybeards were calling?" Urag asked in astonishment.

"Yes, we went through this all at the gate," Lydia whined, exasperated at the Orc.

"Exactly," Atrius said, backing her up. "Please don't make me shout again – I can't promise the Arcanaeum would still be in one piece afterwards."

"Oh? Ah, yes…of course, of course," Urag muttered, shuffling off and over to a set of shelves. "I'll bring you everything we have on them, but it's not much. So don't get your hopes up. It's mostly lies, leavened with rumour and conjecture."

He pulled two books off a shelf before laying them down on a bench in front of them – one with a red cover, the other with a green cover. Atrius tossed the book with the red cover to Lydia, claiming the green book for himself. Urag gave a sniff of disapproval at his handling of the books before shuffling away to tend to his other duties.

"Have you got anything?" Atrius asked Lydia 20 minutes later after hearing her slamming the book shut.

"No," she grumbled. "All this book really tells me is that the Elder Scrolls are dangerous, difficult to read, and usually require a lifetime of special training to be able to do so with less than fatal effects. My Thane – is this really something you think you could pull off? Even if we manage to get an Elder Scroll, and that Scroll happens to be the one need to defeat Alduin – how on earth are you going to read it, and how on earth are you going to do so safely? This seems impossible to pull off. I already said, maybe Paarthurnax-"

"I know what you think about Paarthurnax," Atrius interrupted her, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. "But I believe he's on our side. Even if this is all a wild goose chase, it's the only plan we have right now. The gods made me Dragonborn against all odds – who's to say they're not guiding us as we speak?"

"But what about the dangers of the Scrolls?" Lydia asked him.

"The Scrolls are...mysterious," Atrius answered, leaning forward once more. "Under normal circumstances, yes – decades of special training goes into learning how to read them and even after all that, most of the monks who do so end up going blind eventually. But there have been…exceptions."

"What kinds of exceptions?"

"I don't know exactly how it works. It's almost like at every turning point in history, the gods have interceded in allowing the power of the Scrolls to be temporarily unlocked by an unlearned person with little to no consequence. The monks study to read the Scrolls as they are, and they end up suffering for it. But in these special circumstances, a reader hasn't simply _read_ a Scroll; they've used the power of the Scroll with no special training or directive."

"Do you think it's really the gods?" Lydia asked him in a hushed voice. "Do you think they'd allow you to read the Scroll, and…I don't know…protect you from it?"

"Well, that's my theory," Atrius responded, slamming his own book shut. "But it doesn't seem like we're any closer to finding a Scroll to test it.

"No luck with your book, then?" Lydia asked.

"No," Atrius shook his head. "In fact, I don't even know what it's saying at all. I don't know if my brain is fried or if it's just a really strange book. Take a look for yourself, see if you can make any sense of it."

He slid the book over to her, and Lydia took a flick through its pages. Atrius watched her eyebrows furrow in a way that made him sure his inability to find a message in the pages wasn't just due to his own incompetence.

"Though the plantmatter fibres imbue your soul…a bird cresting the wind…the acorn is a kind of tree-egg…" she shut the book and shook her head as if trying to rid it of what she'd just been reading. "You're right, that makes absolutely no sense. Maybe Urag made a mistake?"

"No, I don't think so…" Atrius murmured. "It does at least mention the Scrolls a few times, so I'm sure Urag meant to give it to us. Maybe I should just ask him."

They got up from their seats and once more approached Urag, book in hand.

"Urag, this book is incomprehensible," Atrius said to him, handing the book over.

"Aye, that's the work of Septimus Signus," Urag muttered, taking a look for the author in the front cover and closing the book up once more with a sense of care and delicacy. "He's the world's master of the nature of the Elder Scrolls, but…well…"

"What is it?" Atrius prompted him.

"He's been gone for a long while," Urag said, signs of concern softening his brutish features. "Too long."

"He's dead?" Atrius asked.

"What? No! Or at least, I hope not," Urag replied, not sounding altogether sure of the fact. "But I haven't seen him in years, and we were close."

"Where did he go?"

"Became obsessed with the Dwemer," Urag sighed. "Took off north saying he had found some old artefact. Haven't seen him since. Somewhere in the ice fields, if you want to try to find him. If you do, I'd appreciate you sending word. As I said – it's been a long time."

"I liked him," Lydia said of Urag as they were leaving the college. "He kind of reminds me of a slightly grouchier and less vain version of Farengar. Did you ever get to meet Farengar back when you were working for Baalgruff?"

"I never worked for Balgruuf," Atrius reminded her, throwing his furs back over his shoulders. "And yes, I did have the misfortune to meet Farengar. I don't wish him any harm, but I would also be quite pleased to never see him again."

"Oh, so you didn't like him either?" Lydia laughed. "Irileth made us work with him one time back when she was in charge of training us housecarls. All we were doing was fetching a few ingredients for him, but he refused to talk to anyone about the work except her. Apparently we were all beneath his recognition, even when we trying to warn him that the fire salts we'd collected hadn't been properly sealed in their jar. I think he still has a scar to show for it."

Atrius threw his head back in laughter. In truth, the situation probably wasn't all that objectively funny, but even so – he'd grown up around pompous officials and members of the Imperial Court all his life. His da had always taught him to be humble, even with servants, and it delighted Atrius greatly to see the proud and haughty get their occasional comeuppance.

The icefields north of Winterhold were vast, but they were also rather flat. Atrius was pleased that they likely wouldn't need to travel the length of them, as any signs of camping or an outpost would be visible from afar off. The main obstacle was the water. The ice fields weren't fields so much as they were icebergs, broken off at regular intervals with water lining their unsteady boundaries. It was midday, and still it was one of the coldest temperatures Atrius had ever experienced. If one of them fell in the water, it would certainly mean hypothermia, and probably even death if the other were also incapacitated and unable to reach or warm them. They would have to tread lightly and carefully.

"Lydia, how are you holding up?" Atrius called out behind him.

"I'm f-fine," she stammered, her arms wrapped around her body tightly. "Do you think that might be the spot?"

She pointed to a small ice-covered hill, just barely visible a far way off.

"Worth a try!" Atrius called back to her.

His spirits were lifted slightly as they drew closer and found a small boat anchored amongst the ice, as well as what looked like a small wooden door in the side of a rocky outcrop, suggesting that the landmark had been hollowed out and used as a dwelling place.

"Look, there's a boat," Atrius pointed out to Lydia.

"That doesn't mean it's him, or that he's even alive out here after all this time," she replied. "But at least it might be a bit warmer inside – if nothing else maybe we can start a fire and call it a night."

"Agreed."

Atrius' first impression upon making his way inside this natural cavern was that it had been abandoned – the area seemed small, and silent. But a pathway stretched around the inner wall, and as they made their way further into the depths, they found signs of life – a small bookshelf, tables lit with candles, and a frail old man wrapped in a dark blue mages cloak. There was also what appeared to be a large golden gate – although to be truthful, Atrius wasn't entirely sure what the mechanism was. It was unlike any gate he'd ever seen before.

Unusually, the old man didn't acknowledge their intrusion. Perhaps he was blind, or deaf? Atrius approached him cautiously and placed a hand on his shoulder, alerting the man to their presence. He was undisturbed, but rather spoke to them comfortably and casually in a wheezy voice.

"When the top level was built, no more could be placed!" he addressed them. "It was and is the maximal apex."

"Are you Septimus Signus?" Atrius asked.

There was no response. The man simply continued mixing some sort of concoction at a small table wedged into the snowy floor of the cavern.

Atrius looked at Lydia for silent directive. She simply shrugged, just as unsure about what to do now as he was. Atrius decided it would probably be best to get straight down to business.

"I heard you know about Elder Scrolls," Atrius continued.

"Elder Scrolls. Indeed…" the man hummed, stopping his work and looking up to gaze blankly into space. "The Empire. They absconded with them! Or so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they thought they saw. I know of one. Forgotten. Sequestered. But I cannot go to it! Not poor Septimus, for I…I have arisen beyond its grasp."

"Are you…alright?" Atrius asked him in concern. It was clear that this man was indeed Septimus Signus alive and in the flesh. But there was definitely something off about him. He was old and seemingly senile. Atrius sensed that he didn't have much longer left.

The man released his grip on the table and swayed slightly, but he was caught by Atrius and Lydia who guided him to sit on a damp and icy rock. Atrius noticed that the man was light – a young and gentle damsel could easily have supported his weight on her own.

"Oh, I am well," Septimus insisted as he sat down. "I will be well. Well to be within the will inside the walls."

"So, where is the Scroll?" Atrius pressed him gently. He'd gathered from the cryptic speech that there was an Elder Scroll somewhere – a Scroll the Imperials know nothing about, and one which Septimus knew where to find, but was unable to go to. Hopefully he'd at least be able to give them some clue as to where it might be.

"Here," Septimus replied simply. "Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On the cosmological scale, it's all nearby."

Atrius was beginning to get annoyed. Old and frail as this man might be, he clearly knew enough to be able to communicate. Now he was just choosing to be infuriating.

"Can you help me get the Elder Scroll or not?" Atrius asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"One block lifts the other," Septimus answered him, unconcerned. "Septimus will give what you want, but you must bring him something in return.

"And what is it that you want?"

"You see this masterwork of the Dwemer," Septimus gestured to the great golden gate behind them. "Deep inside their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever among men, but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach?"

Atrius shook his head.

"Where is this Blackreach?"

"Under deep," Septimus answered. "Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand. The point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock."

The old man got up and shuffled slowly over to an old and weathered knapsack on the ground. Reaching inside, he pulled out two small instruments – one cubed and the other spherical. They looked similar in style to the golden gate, suggesting they were Dwemer-crafted items.

"Two things I have for you," Septimus said to them, handing over the instruments. "Two shapes. One edged, one round. The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle, and needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, a full library of knowings. But…empty. Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read the Scroll and lay the lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows you can know!"

"Do you think we should ask him if he wants to come with us?" Lydia asked Atrius as they were about to leave. They'd camped with Septimus that night, who pretended as if they were not there the entire time.

"No," Atrius shook his head. "He's not in any shape to be going anywhere."

"What are we meant to do with those things he gave to you?"

"I'm not sure," Atrius replied. "I'm also not interested in trying to get any more information from Septimus, it was hard enough trying to work out what we do know. I guess we'll just have to figure it out. He's already told us to start looking in Alftand. In the depths is Blackreach, and then something about a tower. What do you reckon?

"Someone might know where Alftand is if we ask around," Lydia shrugged. "From there…it sounds Dwemer, and the Dwarves were known for building underground. If Blackreach is under deep as Septimus said, I'm guessing it's underground somewhere inside the structure."

They both looked over to Septimus, who was awake and silently working on some unknown project.

"Do you think we should stop over at Winterhold on our way back?" Lydia asked Atrius in a hushed voice. "Maybe Urag could come and get him some help. I don't think he's coping very well out here…"

"No time," Atrius said to her. "The clock is still ticking on Alduin, and we need to find this Scroll. We'll leave him some food supplies and check back in with Urag when we can. But I don't think it's going to make much of a difference. He's on his last legs with or without anyone else's help. I'm afraid that's just life. I'm sure he was once a brilliant man in his day, but even the most brilliant of us can't escape the afflictions of age. I think it's better to just leave him here to finish his days doing what he loves. He might be upset if someone tries to take him away from finishing his work."

"You're the boss," Lydia sighed, slinging her backpack across her shoulders. "Let's go to it then."

It was told to them by a townsperson of Winterhold that Alftand lay somewhere between there and Dawnstar, slightly south of the midway point. Atrius and Lydia found themselves trudging through what felt like endless deserts of snow, measuring three-feet deep in some places. It had been one night already since they'd left Septimus in the ice fields. Atrius had contracted a case of rockjoint after an infected ice wolf had caught him off guard and bitten into him.

"Are you sure you don't have a potion for that?" Lydia asked him as he examined a swollen and stiff elbow.

"No," Atrius replied, rolling his sleeve back down to his wrist, "but I suppose it's not life-threatening, is it? It's just painful and annoying. We can get it healed at one of the Temples after we've gotten through Alftand."

"You know, we don't know what we're going to find in there," Lydia warned him. "Are you sure you can swing a weapon?"

"I'm not incapacitated," he answered, slightly annoyed at her worrying. "I'll be fine."

They stopped when they came to the ruins of a burnt cottage atop what looked like a city of metal and stone buried underneath layers upon layers of soft snow.

"Do you think this is the place?" Lydia asked him.

"Well…how many Dwemer ruins could there possibly be in Skyrim?" Atrius replied.

"A lot," Lydia said. "But you're right – judging by how long we've been travelling, I would hazard a guess that this is roughly somewhere between Winterhold and Dawnstar. I think this might be it."

They followed across an old rickety bridge through a small gap in the mountains. Whoever built it must've been a brave soul – a drop at this height would be impossible to survive. The bridge led to a crevice in the side of the mountain which they entered through and escaped from the piercing wind.

"This place…it looks like someone's been through here," Atrius observed. Old wagons and broken wooden boards trailed through the entrance and the icy halls that followed. He and Lydia pulled out their bows tentatively, prepared to get the drop on any bandits that had preceded them in search of plunder.

Interestingly enough, there were several things of value scattered throughout the place which had either been left behind or remained unclaimed. Atrius managed to pocket a few items for himself which he might either turn into something useful or pawn for a good price.

"Do you think it was bandits that came through here, or something else?" Lydia whispered.

"I don't know."

At that point they began to hear a snarling voice from somewhere afar off.

"Where is it? I know you were trying to keep it for yourself J'zhar…you are always trying to keep it for yourself!"

Atrius silently lifted a finger to his mouth to warn Lydia and readied an arrow.

"No! There's got to be more skooma…shut up! Shut up! Don't lie to me, Jzhar! You hid it! You are always trying to steal it from me!"

Atrius couldn't see where the voice had come from, so he continued to creep cautiously around the cavern, following it around and into a man-made stone structure. The voice seemed to fade, but he stayed on guard all the same.

Broken mechanised units began to appear on the ground as they delved. Neither of them could make sense of what purpose they may have once had, but they were definitely Dwarven creations. It was beginning to look much more like they had indeed stumbled across Alftand. A mist filled the room up to their waists – or was it steam? It felt warm, and they found it comforting after being surrounded by wet snow and cold winds for the past week.

Suddenly, a noise came from a pipe behind them. A unit like the one they had seen sprawled across the ground just a moment ago came lunging forward, jumping and attacking Atrius with spindly metal legs. It knocked him back. Lydia pulled out a sword and plunged it through what looked like the mechanisms brain – a gyroscopic core with a magical centre.

"Are you okay?" she asked Atrius, helping him to his feet.

"Yeah," he replied, dusting himself off. "What was that thing? It's like it knew we were here, even though we hardly made a peep."

"It's some kind of…spider," Lydia answered, examining the units body. "Only it's mechanised. You see this magical gyro? You take that out, and it powers down."

"I wonder how it knew we were here…" Atrius pondered.

"I don't know," Lydia shrugged. "But I don't think it's worth bringing the bows out for this one if they're going to sneak up on us anyways. A heavier weapon is going to be much more effective. Reckon you can swing that warhammer?"

"I can give it a go," Atrius groaned as he pulled it out. The rockjoint wasn't getting any worse, but it wasn't getting any better either. His elbows were still painful and his movements were slowed. He was going into this with a handicap.

They continued onwards, encountering a couple more of the spiders along the way. The fighting was painful to Atrius, but the spiders were weak and easy to defeat. The stone halls led back into snow caverns like the one at the entry, as if they'd done a full circle and returned to their starting point. That snarling voice they'd heard earlier was starting to return. It was then that they encountered a Khajit dressed in casual clothing. He appeared to be muttering and leaning over the dead body of another Khajit. Atrius exchanged a questioning look with Lydia before stowing his weapon and attempting to initiate conversation.

"Friend," he began cautiously, "you seem like you could do with some help. Are you alright?"

"What? Who is this, brother?" the Khajit snarled, turning around and facing Atrius. "Another of the smooth skins looking for food? But this one wasn't trapped with us…"

"I'm not here to take anything from you," Atrius told him, raising his hands in innocence. "I just want to help you."

"No…no! You must be the one who took my skooma!"

The Khajit pulled out a knife and started toward Atrius, but Lydia reached him first, plunging a sword through his side. He cried out as she withdrew the blade and fell to the ground, blood poolling from his abdomen. He bled out quickly.

"What do you think happened here?" Atrius asked her.

Lydia began examining the body of the slain Khajit.

"Nothing on him," she observed. "I wonder what these two were doing all the way down here. They're not armed. I don't think they're bandits."

"He was muttering something about skooma," Atrius said. "I think he might've been an addict. He wasn't thinking clearly."

"What about the one that was already dead?" Lydia asked.

"He mentioned a brother," Atrius murmured as he walked over to examine the other body. "There's a diary here."

"What does it say?"

"Apparently the brother brought the other one down here to try and get him off the skooma," Atrius read. "Thought the isolation might be good for him. But the withdrawal was too much, and his attempts to purify his brother went wrong. That's sad."

He tossed the book aside and beckoned Lydia to follow.

"Come on – we have to get moving."

They once again found themselves surrounded by stone walls, encouraging them to keep pressing onwards. It was getting warmer as they delved deeper through the settlement. It was hard to believe that outside above the surface there were temperatures below freezing. Along with that, it was beginning to look more and more as though this place had once belonged to a large people group. It appeared to be an underground city larger than any of the fortified settlements in all Skyrim, perhaps rivalling even the Imperial City itself. The Dwemer people had once disappeared without a trace – but their mechanisms continued to chug along efficiently. They had definitely been a people well ahead of their time.

It wasn't long before they came across another aggressive mechanism, but this one wasn't like the spiders. It was larger and appeared to move by balancing on some sort of wheel. It attacked them by swinging long metal arms and was more evasive than the spiders – it rolled away after attacking and sped back in to take another swing. It was only after creating a large enough dent in its body that the guard finally fell before them.

"Ah, I was hoping the spiders would be the worst of them," Atrius groaned, rubbing his sorest elbow. "Man, this rockjoint really sucks."

"We'll get you fixed up once we're out of here," Lydia promised him, giving him a compassionate squeeze of the shoulder. "These creatures…machines…whatever. They're covered in oil. They probably function just like a fuse. Maybe you could try doing that fire shout? I can charge them with my weapon once they're weakened."

"That's a good idea," he agreed. "Just make sure not to go charging in until the coast is clear."

It became evident that it was going to take longer than one day to clear these ruins, and they were beginning to tire. Atrius and Lydia found a room tucked away from the main hall. It seemed a safe place to spend the night – they hadn't encountered any signs of life, and the mechanisms that guarded the halls weren't overly powerful. If any decided to intrude upon them, they would know.

Lacking in natural resources as they were, they were unable to start a fire. Thankfully the warm steam filling the halls extended to this cavity as well. Despite sleeping on stone floors, Atrius and Lydia probably had their most comfortable nights sleep in a while.

They never knew exactly when they awoke given that they were far underground and had no way of telling them time, but at some point they deemed it appropriate to continue their quest through this ruin. It was on this second leg of their descent that they stumbled across a creature of the foulest kind – a Falmer. Its light blue body and gremlin-esque features made it not-so-easy on the eyes. Speaking of eyes, it appeared to be blind, but with that blindness came exceptional hearing. Just as it had been with the Dwarven mechanisms, Atrius and Lydia wouldn't be able to sneak past.

What's more was that they appeared to have their own weaponry and specialisations. Some wielded swords, others were archers, and yet others appeared to possess an aptitude for magic. They were usually encountered on a singular basis, but occasionally a small group would get the drop on the pair. That became problematic. Atrius' limbs still weren't functioning at capacity. He tried as hard as he could to swing his warmhammer quickly and effectively, but there came a point where it wasn't enough, and Lydia ended up paying the price.

Three Falmer went down with the pair working together, but a fourth felled Lydia whilst Atrius was distracted. She cried out in pain as a frost spike was plunged into her abdomen, the magic penetrating a weak point in her armour.

"Lydia!" Atrius called out to her, his joints still stiff from disease. He struggled to crush the head of one Falmer and ran as quickly as he could to take down the remaining creature-mage. Frost flew from its fingers, further slowing Atrius down. Meanwhile, Lydia remained curled up in pain on the stone floor behind him.

"Nyah!" he shouted, swinging the warhammer from around his side. Pain shot into his elbows once more, but he couldn't afford to waste time. He gritted his teeth and continued with the follow through. The Falmer attempted to dodge backwards, but found itself backed up against the wall and having nowhere to run. Its arm was broken with a sickening crunch, followed by the rest of its midsection as the head of Atrius' warhammer made contact. It let out a furious clicking noise before falling to the ground motionless.

"Lydia!" Atrius cried out once more, running over to where she lay and dropping to his knees. He noticed she was shivering violently, but the ice spike had dissipated.

"What's happening?" he asked her hurriedly.

"C-c-cold," she stammered. She uncurled from the foetal position she had been lying in and lay flat for Atrius to see. There was no visible wound as such, but the hole in the fabric of her armour displayed skin that was red and raw. The magic hadn't punctured her, but it obviously hadn't needed to - she felt the effects inside of her.

"Come on," Atrius commanded, lifting her up under the arms and looking around. He noticed that this room was filled with supplies – as if it were some sort of camp someone had set up, rather like the one they'd found at the entrance of the ruin, only better equipped. A small fire was burning nearby. He dragged her over and placed her gently on the ground close enough to glean from its warmth, but not to burn.

"Can you sit up?" he asked her. She nodded weakly and made an attempt, but gasped as a wave of painful chills flooded through her body. Atrius assisted her, wrapping a fur around her shoulders before leaning up her against the wall. He pulled out the remaining fur and wrapped it around her front.

"I think I have a healing potion," he said, searching through the contents of his bag. But Lydia shook her head.

"It's not a flesh wound," she reminded him. "A healing potion won't work."

Atrius had another idea. Looking around the room he found a metal bucket and filled it with the remaining water from his flask.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked him weakly.

"Natural remedies," he replied. "I'll warm the water a little and use it to help you."

He got up once more and began searching the room, recalling seeing some potions on a large bench nearby.

"That was your last bit of water, what are you going to drink?" Lydia asked him. Atrius only shrugged.

"I'll find some more, I'm sure the Falmer have to drink as well. There'll be a water source somewhere. Aha!"

He grabbed two small vials from the bench and walked over to sit down beside Lydia, uncorking both of them.

"This one is for you," he said, handing her one of the vials before chugging down the second.

"Ah, that's much better," Lydia sighed. "What was that?"

"Some potion that's meant to provide a resistance to the cold," Atrius replied.

"Could've used that back in Winterhold."

They both laughed at the memory.

"And what about the one you took?"

"A cure for disease," he grinned at her. "For the rockjoint, see?"

He pushed up the sleeves of his armour and showed her the swelling which had already started to go down.

"Oh, that's great," Lydia smiled.

"Yes," Atrius replied, getting up and fetching the pail of water from beside the fire. "I'm just sorry I wasn't quick enough, otherwise I might have gotten that Falmer before it got you."

"Don't apologise," Lydia shushed him. "It's not the worst that's ever happened to me – you don't train under Irileth and not receive a few beatings here and there."

Atrius chuckled at her before pulling away the fur that covered her front.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked.

"Show me where it got you," Atrius replied, immersing his hands in the now warm water.

Lydia stretched up a little to expose the part of her stomach which had been struck by the ice spike. Her chill was relieved slightly as Atrius gently massaged the spot with the warm water.

"That's so much better," she sighed, closing her eyes and allowing him to continue. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"My ma used to do it for me as a child," he answered her. "As a boy I would suffer from bad head colds in the winter. She would massage my scalp using warm water. It didn't quicken the course of the illness, but it did relieve some of the pain and discomfort."

"It works well," she said to him. "Your ma knew what she was doing. Don't forget to use some on yourself."

"What?"

"Your arms – the rockjoint," she reminded him.

"Oh – yes, you're right!"

He covered her with the fur once more before tending to his own ailments, although it seemed hardly necessary anymore. The pain and stiffness were both quickly receding thanks to the potion.

"What do you suppose they needed this room for?" Atrius asked Lydia, slumping down next to her once again. "It looks like it was purposed for human use."

"I don't know," she answered him. "Maybe it didn't belong to the Falmer."

"You think there are others down here?" he asked.

"Possibly," she replied. "I mean, if Septimus knew about the Elder Scroll, it's not a stretch to think maybe someone else does as well. Maybe they've come looking for it."

"If that's the case, I hope the Falmer can slow them down."

"What are you going to do with it, anyway?" Lydia enquired. "The Elder Scroll – once you have it, are you just going to read it, right there and then?"

"No…no, Paarthurnax said I had to take it back to the Throat of the World," Atrius answered her. "Something about taking it back to the exact place where time was shattered…"

"And that's where you'll read it?"

"I guess so," he shrugged. "But we don't even know if the Scroll is here. Or if it is here, if it's even the right one."

"We're going through a lot for a lot of ifs," Lydia observed.

"We are," Atrius agreed. "But it's-"

"-the only plan we have," Lydia finished.

When Lydia was feeling well again, the two set off for what they hoped would be the third and final leg of their journey. As warm as it was down here, they almost wished to be above surface again, if only for a little natural sunlight. Falmer continued to plague their path, but with Atrius' joints now functioning properly, they had no trouble overcoming these encounters, frequent as they were. Eventually they came to a large platform elevated above ground level, a barred gate blocking the rest of their path.

"Fantastic," Atrius muttered. "We come all this way and our path is blocked. What now?"

"There must be some way to open it," Lydia suggested.

Before either of them could move however, a statue to the side of the room sprung to life! Atrius hadn't even noticed it was there as he'd walked right past it, but the centurion stood easily twice as tall as him. It made a lunge at Lydia with one of its powerful arms, which she quickly blocked, using her blade to deflect it.

"Get it while it's exposed!" she yelled out to Atrius.

Atrius nodded and quickly ran over, aiming his warhammer at the centurion's side. It was quicker then him, however, and brought its second arm down squarely on his head. His helmet caught the impact, but he was still disoriented. Meanwhile, Lydia had released her parry and slid between the automaton's legs. She grabbed one from behind as it made its way towards Atrius, but this didn't even slow it down – it simply lifted her up and brought her back down as if she weren't there at all.

"Oof!"

She lost her grip and was thrown back down onto the floor. Her attempt had failed, but it had given Atrius an idea. He ran around the left side of the centurian, and continued on behind it. Raising his warhammer, he brought it back down on the centurion's knee joint. It came crashing to the ground. Then, moving quickly, he brought his warhammer back around and swung it at the machine's head, now almost in line with his own. The metal crumpled underneath the force, and the head snapped sideways. Slumping down, the machine fell the ground awkwardly and didn't get up again.

"Nice job," Lydia panted, getting to her feet. "At least the gate's open now."

And so it was – Atrius hadn't noticed the removal of the bars, but they appeared to be gone.

"How do you think that happened?" Lydia asked him.

"Don't care," Atrius replied, stowing his weapon. "Just glad that it did."

They began to make their way up the set of stairs in front of them, but Atrius pulled Lydia aside and hid them behind a stone wall when he heard voices coming from the summit.

"Sulla, let's just get out of here," a woman's voice echoed out. "Hasn't there been enough death?"

"Oh, of course, you want me to leave!" a male voice replied. "Just waiting for me to turn my back, so you can have all the glory for yourself! Hargh!"

The sounds of weapons and steel clashing sounded like a gong throughout the chamber. Atrius and Lydia winced at the noise they were making, unsure of how their own presence could've possibly gone unnoticed by these people after their own battle with the centurion.

When it seemed as if the fighting had died down, they decided to make their appearance.

"Hey!" Atrius called out.

It seemed that the woman – a Redguard - had bested the man, though it also seemed that she wasn't done. Upon hearing Atrius she turned around and went straight back into battle mode. She made Lydia her first target, but there was enough room between them for Atrius to pull something off.

"FUS-RO-DAH!"

His shout sent her flying into the air and knocked her against the stone wall behind her. Without a helmet to protect her, she was rendered unconscious. But Lydia cut off her head anyways for good measure once her body lay crumpled on the ground.

"Brutal," Atrius said. "Didn't think you had it in you. But was it necessary?"

"It was her life or ours," Lydia shrugged. "You saw how she attacked us. Once she woke up, she was going to come after us. She looked skilled enough to pull it off, too."

"Well, in any case, I suppose we found who that campsite belonged to."

They turned around to examine the place fully – namely, a large platform that stood about waist-high in the centre of the area they stood in. It looked to be some sort of puzzle. Atrius ran his fingers over the edges and grooves. It was a work of art, truly – but what did it do?

He found a pillar in the centre of it with a space for something sperical to be placed inside. It was then he remembered the items Septimus had given him. He shuffled through his bag and pulled out the smaller of the two, placing it in the respective slot.

His suspicions were proven correct – the spherical object rolled around in the slot and the shapes on the platform twisted and turned until they revealed an underground staircase. Removing the object, Atrius packed it away once more and followed the stairs down and around to a door.

What he saw when he opened the door was something he would never forget – they were completely underground! And not just surrounded by stone walls, but soil, moss, and all kinds of plantation. He would've supposed it would be pitch black, but it wasn't. A glow emanated from various plants, giving light to most of the cave. Only he couldn't really call it a cave, because this place appeared to be truly massive, as though it were the landscape of Skyrim itself.

"Is this Blackreach?" Lydia whispered in awe, gazing around the cave and trying to take it all in at once. There was something peaceful about it – they had moved from being surrounded by stone and machinery to being completely in nature. Plants lined the edges of the cave, soil was crushed beneath their boots.

But it wasn't at all peaceful, as they soon discovered. It wasn't long before they'd caught the attention of two large dwarven units and a large scorpion type creature – a chaurus. The automatons were no problem, but the chaurus had tough skin and liked to spit venom. There was only one preferred way out of this situation.

"RUN!" Atrius screamed, as he sighted a footpath and sprinted blindly along it as fast as he could. He had no idea where he was supposed to go, but he knew that he didn't want to encounter that chaurus if he could avoid it.

Unfortunately their great escape only seemed to attract the attention of more unfriendly creatures. Soon they had more chaurus, a Falmer and gods-knows-what-else on their tail. Their lungs were beginning to burn and their chests were tight when Atrius finally spotted a tower at what looked like the far edge of the cavern.

"Over there!" he called out to Lydia.

The pair rushed as quickly as they could, Atrius reaching the tower first and thrusting the door open for Lydia, who tripped over to get inside, Atrius entering behind her and slamming the door shut. They heard banging and other menacing noises coming from the other side of the door, but they seemed to be safe for now. They both lay on their backs for a moment, panting from their efforts and attempting to regain their breath.

"Is this the place?" Lydia finally gasped out, getting to her feet and leaning over with her hands on her knees.

Atrius stood up as well. They were only in a very small room, barely enough space to lay two bodies across. At the centre of the room was a lever.

"What does this do?" Atrius asked, as he pushed it forward.

They both lurched forward as the ground beneath them appeared to rush upwards. Neither of them could tell for sure what was happening. Then, just as Atrius thought he might lose his breakfast, the movement came to a halt. They were now in front of another door.

"That was…unpleasant…" Atrius said, as he staggered forward and leaned against the door.

Pushing it open, they found themselves in what appeared to be a large living space. It was empty, but complete with bookshelves and even a fire pit in the middle of the room.

"Be careful," Lydia warned him as they made their way quietly across the room. "Signs of life haven't worked out to be a good thing for us so far."

The next room split off into two paths, twisting around a high circular platform and leading them to the top of it. In the centre of the room was another Dwemer puzzle – different kinds of glass and focusing units hung from the ceiling. On another platform higher up lay what appeared to be controls for this mechanism.

Atrius stood in front of these controls and pulled out the cubed lexicon – the second item Septimus had given him. Placing it in a slot in front of him, the controls seemed to come alive. Four buttons revealed themselves. Atrius discovered that they did indeed operate the arms hanging from the ceiling, but he had no idea what was required of him. He spent a few moments randomly pushing buttons and fiddling around with the controls when finally something happened.

The buttons were covered over once again, and light began to shine from the arms in the center of the room. A glowing inscription began to appear on the lexicon, although Atrius was unable to read it. At that same moment a large egg-shaped object made of glass was lowered down from the ceiling and pulled apart in front of them. Pocketing the lexicon, he made his way to where the split egg was in the centre of the room. It was then that Atrius was able to see its contents – it was a large, pure white scroll that seemed to shimmer with a powerful glow. It was an Elder Scroll!


	13. Alduin's Bane

**CHAPTER TWELVE – ALDUIN'S BANE**

"I want to go with you this time."

"You know you cannot. The Greybeards would never allow it."

"To Oblivion with the Greybeards!"

They had made it back to High Hrothgar all in one piece, the Elder Scroll hidden in their possession and their next step clear. Atrius was to return to the Throat of the World with the Elder Scroll and pray it would be the key to learning a shout that would defeat Alduin. The pair stood now in the monastery, arguing over Lydia's desire to join Atrius at the Throat of the World. But he knew she would not be able to.

"What happens if I read the Scroll and something bad happens to me, Lydia?" he asked her. "What will you do? Will you restore my sight? Will you restore my sanity? Will you bring me back from the dead?"

"I'll do whatever I have to do!" she retorted.

"You're being nonsensical…" Atrius grumbled. "There is nothing that your presence could possibly help me with. I'll read the Scroll, I'll learn what I need to know, and then I'll leave. It's a risk, but one I have to take."

"You said you'd always come back – even if the world has to end," she said angrily, tears forming in her eyes. "Where's that promise you made me? You stand here ready to piss it all away, like it meant nothing to you!"

"It meant everything to me!" Atrius bellowed back. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to be Dragonborn, and I didn't ask to be Thane either. I didn't ask to care about you, but here we are. Do you understand how much I'm trying to keep in the balance right now? I have literally the weight of the world on my shoulders – and then you stand there, you, who takes up so much of my world. Don't ask me to do this, Lydia. Don't ask me to stop when so much is stake. You've defended your honour by staying by my side, isn't it enough?"

"I'm not doing this out of honour," she replied, wiping away her tears. "Don't you dare say that's what this is all about."

"I didn't mean it like that," Atrius sighed. "I just don't want you to feel like you owe me anything. All because of some cultural tradition. If anything happens to me – none of that is on you."

"Oh, you still don't get it," she whispered, standing closely in front of him and staring straight into his eyes. "I want you to live because I want you to live. I want you here. I want to go on adventures with you, I want to keep making fun of you and spending time with you, dammit. I want to have your companionship. I want to have your company. My Thane, it's _you_ that's important to me."

Atrius sighed in resignation and turned away, slumping into a chair and burying his face in his hands.

"If I don't do this," he said slowly, "you'll lose all of that anyways. And I'll lose you. Where would that leave us?"

"Just promise me you'll come back," Lydia choked. "Come back whole, or I'll never forgive you."

She didn't see him off the next morning. Neither did the Greybeards. It seemed as if neither party could stomach the fact that Atrius, now in the possession of an Elder Scroll, was on his way to learn a secret, one dangerous and hidden in the cracks of time. For their own reasons, neither Lydia nor the Greybeards could give their blessings for this journey. But Atrius knew that this was what he had to do. At least he also knew that Paarthurnax would be there with him.

And sure enough, the noble dragon was there, waiting faithfully for his return.

"You have it," he growled in a deep voice. "The Kel – the Elder Scroll. Tiid kreh qalos. Time shudders at its touch. There is no question. You are doom-driven. Kogaan Akatosh. The very bones of the earth are at your disposal."

"If you thought I was doom-driven, then why give me such a directive?" Atrius questioned him.

"Hmm, you spoke and argued your point well," Paarthurnax replied. "But you are frightened, Dovahkiin. You stall for time when time is running out. Time is shattered. Go now. Fulfil your destiny. Take the Scroll to the Time-Wound."

He nodded over to a certain section of the mountain, large enough for a man to stand in. The very atmosphere of it seemed to distort and reverberate. It emanated warm air that engulfed Atrius as he stood within it. It was eerie, but familiar. It appeared to call to the Scroll in need, as if waiting for it to cure whatever ailed it – demanding it, even.

"Do not delay," Atrius heard Paarthurnax growl from behind him. "Alduin will be coming. He cannot miss the signs."

"Alduin is coming here?!" Atrius turned around in shock.

"Now, Dovahkiin!"

At the dragon's command, Atrius promptly tore open the Scroll and gazed upon its inscriptions. He knew he would not be able to make sense of it as the monks did, but that would not be necessary here. A blinding light began to flood his vision, and he lost control of all his senses. The ground beneath his feet disappeared, and the light consumed him.

When it began to fade, Atrius found himself standing in the same place, except that Paarthurnax was no longer with him, and the once peaceful atmosphere was now filled with the chaotic sounds of a battle raging far below him. There was something else too – his vision was strange. It was as if he was looking through another set of eyes, or trying to view the world through glass. Perhaps the monks were able to see clearly, if they ever had these visions at all – but that was something Atrius did not know.

He didn't have time to ponder these things, as a large and battle-scarred Nord appeared in front of him.

"Gormlaith!" the figure called out to someone. "We're running out of time! The battle-"

"Daal sul thur se Alduin vokrii!" a thunderous voice interrupted him. "Today Alduin's lordship will be restored! But I honour your courage. Krif voth ahkrin. Die now in vain!"

A bright red dragon came in to land in front of the Nord, and the two commenced a skilful dance of battle. The Nord swung his battleaxe, while the dragon swiped with its jaws. It was a see-saw battle of dodging and hitting, until it finally looked as though the Nord would be bested. But at that moment a woman came charging in, plunging her sword through the dragon's skull.

"Know that Gormlaith sent you down to death!" she bellowed fiercely, as the dragon let out a ferocious cry and keeled over with an almighty crash.

"Hakon!" the woman greeted her saved companion cheerfully. "A glorious day, is it not?"

"Have you no thought beyond the blooding of your blade?" the man replied.

"Ha, what else is there!" the woman named Gormlaith jeered.

"The battle below goes ill," Hakon observed with an ominous air. "If Alduin does not rise to our challenge, I fear all may be lost."

"You worry too much, brother!" Gormlaith responded. "Victory will be ours!"

"Why does Alduin hang back?" the man wondered aloud in frustration. "We've staked everything on this plan of yours, old man!"

Atrius turned to see a third figure – an elderly, but strong looking mage had joined them on the scene.

"He will come," the mage assured them in a deep and calm voice. "He cannot ignore our defiance. And why should he fear us, even now?"

"We've bloodied him well. Four of his kin have fallen to my blade alone this day!" the woman boasted.

"But none have yet stood against Alduin himself!" the mage cautioned her. "Galthor, Sorri, Birkir…"

"They did not have Dragonrend!" she replied confidently. "Once we bring him down, I promise I will have his head!"

"You do not understand," the mage continued. "Alduin cannot be slain like a lesser dragon. He is beyond our strength. Which is why I brought the Elder Scroll."

He pulled the Scroll out of his cloak, much to the horror of his Nordic companion.

"Felldir! We agreed not to use it!" Hakon protested.

"I never agreed!" the mage replied, stowing the Scroll back into the folds of his cloak. "And if you are right, I will not need it."

"No!" Hakon argued. "We will deal with Alduin ourselves, here and now!"

"We shall see soon enough – Alduin approaches!"

Atrius looked up just as Alduin's dark figure came soaring above the party and landed on the stone wall nearby.

"Meyye! Tahrodiis aanne! Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan!"

"Let those that watch from Sovngaarde envy us this day!" Gormlaith yelled. It was then that they all shouted in unison.

"JOOR – ZAH – FRUL!"

Their shout sent a surge of power directed at Alduin. A blue-purplish light engulfed the dragon, seemingly trapping him as though his wings were clipped, and he fell to the ground before them, powerless to take flight again.

"Nivahriin joore!" the dragon cried out in agony. "What have you done? What twisted words have you created? Tahrodiis Paarthurnax! My teeth to his neck!"

" _Paarthurnax?_ " Atrius wondered. " _What on earth does Paarthurnax have to do with this?"_

"You will die in terror, knowing your final fate!" Alduin threatened his aggressors. "To feed my power when I come for you in Sovngarde!"

"If I die today, it will not be in terror!" Gormlaith cried in defiance, as she swung her sword at the dragon. Hakon too joined in, hacking away at Alduin's scales. But it was no use – taking Gormlaith in his powerful jaw, Alduin bit through her armour, her blood pooling around his fangs. He shook his head ferociously like a wolf drying off from the water, and released her body, sending her flying into the air.

"No, damn you!" Hakon screamed as he watched her fall to the ground. "It's no use! Felldir, use the Scroll! Now!"

Quickly pulling the Elder Scroll from his gown, Felldir unrolled it partially and let the paper hang loose, aiming at Alduin.

"Hold, Alduin on the wing!" he chanted. "Sister Hawk, grant us your sacred breath to make this contract heard! Begone, World-Eater! By words with older bones than your own we break your perch on this age and send you out!"

Alduin, who was previously focused on Hakon, now realised what the mage was attempting to do and redirected his attention. He breathed fire at the mage, perhaps intending to burn the Scroll, but the Scroll was not able to be destroyed so easily, and it protected the one who was using it.

"You are banished!" Felldir continued. "Alduin, we shout you out from all our endings unto the last!"

A green light consumed Alduin, who made futile attempts to resist its power. A sphere of glowing light grew around him, until it closed back in and took the dragon with it. He had vanished.

"YOU! ARE! BANISHED!"

The mage collapsed to the ground out of exhaustion, helped up once more by his Nord companion.

"It worked. You did it," Hakon panted.

"Yes, the World-Eater is gone. May the spirits have mercy on our souls."

Pure bright light flooded Atrius' vision once more.

Atrius didn't have time to stop and consider what he'd just witnessed – Alduin had arrived! There would be no time to practice the words of power he had learned from the vision. It was now or never.

"Bahloki nahkip sillesejoor. My belly is full of the souls of your fellow mortals, Dovahkiin," the dragon taunted him. "Die now, and await your fate in Sovngarde!"

"JOOR – ZAH – FRUL!"

Atrius wasted no time bringing him down. To his delight, the shout worked, all the hatred he held for Alduin directed into one show of force.

"You are too late, Alduin!" Paarthurnax's voice thundered from above as Alduin fell to the ground before Atrius.

Atrius knew that even with Alduin down, that didn't mean he was out. He had just watched the dragon tear about a woman who had felled him. He would still be a difficult opponent.

Charging in with his warhammer, he brought it down on the dragon's tough hide. He was met with Alduin's teeth attempting to grip his own body, but the Blades armour appeared specially designed so that any attempts to get a grip would be met with resistance. Alduin's jaws slid right off the surface, although the impact was still sure to bruise.

"Hargh!" Atrius lifted his warhammer once again, this time aiming for the dragon's front foot. Alduin roared in pain and fury as the hammer his its mark. The bones were crushed, being a weaker part of his body. Alduin fell on his shoulder, unable to support his weight, but brought his other front foot around to claw at Atrius' face.

Atrius grunted as one claw dragged across, drawing blood and leaving him disorientated. The next blow came unawares and knocked the hammer out of his hands. Thinking quickly, Atrius pulled out a small dagger he had taken from the Khajit back in Alftand. He rushed forward and punged it into Alduin's eye.

A monstrous scream filled the atmosphere. Atrius was certain all of Skyrim would be able to hear it. Alduin clawed with his working front foot and removed the dagger from his eye, thrashing and tossing it aside. Once the initial reaction was over, Alduin stood, wounded and subdued, blood and brain matter spilling from the hole in his face.

"Meyz mul, Dovahkiin," he growled. "You have become strong. But I am Alduin, firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else!"

He shook himself off and took to the skies once more as though recovered.

"You cannot prevail against me!" he called out to Atrius as he flew off into the distance, his voice echoing in the sky. "I will outlast you, mortal!"


	14. Season Unending

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – SEASON UNENDING**

"Lot kongrah. You truly have the voice of a dovah. Alduin's allies will think twice after this victory."

Atrius and Paarthurnax had sat together in silence for some time after Alduin's departure, each taking a moment to consider the events which had just transpired.

"It wasn't really a victory since Alduin escaped," Atrius muttered, throwing tufts of snow into the sky absent-mindedly.

"Ni liivrah hin moro. True, this is not the final krongrah – victory," Paarthurnax responded. "But not even the heroes of old were able to defeat Alduin in open battle. Alduin always was pahlok – arrogant in his power. Uznahgar paar. He took domination as his birthright. This should shake the loyalty of the dov who serve him."

Atrius smiled a little to himself. Paarthurnax was a dragon, thousands of years old and full of philosophical melancholy. But here he was, trying to cheer up Atrius and convince him to look on the positive side. It was a strange role-reversal they had taken in such a time as this.

Then Atrius remembered something.

"In the vision Alduin cursed you," he said to Paarthurnax. "Why would that be? What had you done to him?"

The dragon grumbled in thought.

"Krosis. I did not tell you. It was I who gave the idea of creating the Thu'um – the shout to bring down Alduin."

"I thought you said you couldn't know about the Dragonrend shout?"

"Hmm. And I cannot," the dragon rumbled. "But I planted the idea in the minds of those ancient warriors. That they would use the Kel…I did not foresee it."

"I see. In any case, I need to find out where Alduin went," Atrius said, getting to his feet. The sky was beginning to darken, and Lydia would be getting worried. He needed to get back to her.

"Yes…one of his allies could tell us," Paarthurnax thought aloud. "But it will not be so easy to convince one of them to betray him."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Perhaps the hofkahsejun – the palace in Whiterun – Dragonsreach. It was originally built to house a captive dovah."

"I suppose that kind of makes sense," Atrius replied. "Dragonsreach…the very name seems to imply it was meant as a connection point between dragons and humans. At war, I suppose this is achieved through hostages."

"A fine place to trap one of Alduin's allies, hmm?" the dragon suggested.

"The Jarl of Whiterun might not think so," Atrius chuckled, imagining the look on Balgruuf's face.

"Hmm, yes. But your su'um is strong," Paarthurnax responded. "I do not doubt that you can convince him of the need."

"I think you have more faith in me than I have in myself. Goodbye for now, Paarthurnax."

"Goodbye, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax growled. "And may Akatosh guide your voice."

Though they had missed seeing him off, both Arngeir and Lydia were there in the courtyard to greet Atrius upon his return. Upon seeing him, Lydia promptly ran up and threw her arms around him.

"It's alright," Atrius comforted her. "I came back."

"You're hurt," she said, pulling away and noticing the scar across his face. "What happened up there?"

"Alduin," Arngeir interrupted. "We heard the Dragonrend shout from here. You defeated him?"

"Yes, but he escaped," Atrius answered.

"I feared as much. I thought it was him we saw flying east after your battle."

"I'll locate him," Atrius replied. "But for now, I need to rest."

His bones ached from the exertion of battle, and he had quite the task ahead of him. Atrius would be needing his wits when he brought this matter before Jarl Balgruuf.

"Of course, Dragonborn," Arngeir nodded. "As always, you are welcome to stay in High Hrothgar for as long as necessary. We will not disturb you unless you first disturb us."

"Did you know that Alduin would show up?" Lydia asked him when they had gained some privacy back at the monastery. She was dabbing the wound on his face with a cloth dipped in healing potion.

"No," Atrius replied truthfully. "Honestly, all I thought would happen would be that the Scroll would give me information on how to defeat Alduin and that would be the end of it. If I had known, I would have wanted you there."

"Greybeards be damned?"

"Greybeards be damned."

Lydia appeared satisfied with the state of his wound and got up once again, tossing the cloth aside.

"So did you learn that, at least? Information on how to defeat Alduin?"

"Yes. They used some kind of shout. I used it to defeat Alduin on the mountain, but…"

"But what?" Lydia asked him.

"Well, you and Arngeir both saw. He escaped. And now I have to figure out where he's gone."

"Got any plans?"

"You'll think it's crazy," Atrius warned her.

"Probably," she sighed. "But let's hear it anyways."

"We're going to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach and force it to tell us."

There was a moment of pause between them. Lydia said nothing, but simply climbed into bed.

"So, that's it?" Atrius asked her. "Nothing to say?"

"No, not really," Lydia replied. "We've been through so many ridiculous and far-fetched things since I met you, it's kind of starting not to phase me anymore."

"I'm sorry," Atrius mumbled.

"I didn't mean it like that," Lydia laughed. Atrius suspected she was over-tired now. "I just mean that either we're going to figure this out in some insane way, or we're not. I'm too exhausted to think about it right now. Let's just call it night, okay?"

"Sounds good to me."

Atrius wasn't looking forward to this conversation. In fact, for all his knowledge and background of politics, he felt that nothing would prepare him for what he was about to ask of Jarl Balgruuf as he nervously approached his throne. He noticed that the Jarl looked…older. Worn and tired. No doubt the stress of civil war and dragons on top of the day-to-day affairs of governing was taking its toll on the hardy and authoritative man. It made it even harder for Atrius to get out the words he needed to.

"Ah, Thane Atrius," Balgruuf smiled at him through bleary eyes. "What news do you bring?"

"Greetings, Jarl Balgruuf," Atrius replied. "I'm actually here to ask a favour of you."

"Ask away, my friend."

Atrius rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding the Jarl's gaze as he spoke.

"Uhh…there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it – I need to trap a dragon in your palace."

The silence that followed this statement seemed an eternity.

"Uhh – I must have misheard you," the Jarl leaned forward, a slight and disbelieving chuckle in his voice. "I thought you asked me to help you trap a dragon in my palace."

"You heard right," Atrius replied grimly. "It's the only way to stop the dragons."

"What you're asking for is insane – impossible!" Balgruuf spluttered. "You want me to let a dragon into the heart of my city, with the threat of war on my doorstep?"

And there it was – Atrius knew it well. The resolve of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders shattering before his very eyes.

"I know this is a lot to ask – probably more than anyone has ever asked of you and more than anyone ever will," Atrius said, now meeting Balgruuf's gaze with empathy and understanding. "But the threat is worse than you know. Alduin has returned."

"Alduin? The World-Eater himself?" Jarl Balgruuf gasped, eyes widening in horror. "But…how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"

And there was a look Atrius hadn't seen as much before – the look of despair from a man convinced his life is about to come to an end, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Atrius had to relieve his fears and give him hope.

"I'm Dragonborn," he reminded the Jarl, thinking back to when he first wandered into Skyrim and how one of the last things Balgruuf had told him to do was to seek out the Greybeards. "It's my destiny to stop him."

The Jarl buried his face in his hands momentarily before sitting backing up and letting the tension slide from his shoulders.

"I don't know about such things," he said in a low voice. "But I heard the Greybeards summon you. That's good enough for me. Now – what's this nonsense about trapping a dragon in my palace?"

"It's the only way to find Alduin before it's too late."

"I want to help you Dragonborn," Balgruuf sighed. "And I will. But I need your help first."

"I'll do whatever you need, but you must understand the clock is ticking," Atrius responded with urgency.

"Aye, I understand alright. But consider for one moment the pressures of a Jarl caught between two sides of a civil war. Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Do you think they will sit idle while a dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city?"

"If they had an ounce of intelligence between them, they'd stay out of the gods-damned way," Atrius growled.

"Hmm. I am inclined to agree with you. But battling men are more often known for their daring – not for their wits," Balgruuf mumbled. "The point is – whilst I trust in your skill and competence, I know that it will take more than one man to trap a dragon in my palace. You will need to borrow my men. But I can't risk weakening the city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry."

"What if you didn't have to worry about an enemy attack?"

Lydia had remained silent this entire conversation, but had chosen this point to speak up. Clearly she had an idea.

"Then…I suppose I would be glad to help you with your mad dragon-trapping scheme," Balgruuf conceded, as though he expected mammoths to fly before this would ever happen.

"So what if there was a truce?" Lydia proposed. "Even just a temporary one to deal with the dragon threat?"

"Getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep."

But then Balgruuf straightened up once more, suddenly bright and alert.

"But what of the Greybeards?" he wondered aloud. "They are respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral territory."

"Is this a bad time to tell you that General Tullius isn't a Nord?" Lydia asked.

Balgruuf ignored her and continued.

"If the Greybeards were willing to host a peace council, then maybe Ulfric and General Tullius would have to listen!"

It seemed like a bit of a stretch to Atrius that two warring men would be willing to put aside their differences at the summons of some old hermits living on a mountain. But he supposed he hadn't been in Skyrim for long enough to understand the significance of the proposal. He was also aware that if Jarl Balgruuf agreed to let him go through with trapping a dragon, Atrius owed the man any wild fantasy he wanted to chase.

"Leave that to me," Atrius answered. "I'll talk to the Greybeards."

"Aye Dragonborn," Ulfric leaned back on his throne, staring off into empty space. "Maybe you can stop the dragons, and bring this war into the bargain."

"I'd say that went well," Lydia said light-heartedly.

"Speak for yourself," Atrius grunted as they pushed through the gates of the city and headed out once more into the rough Skyrim terrain. "I don't even know if the Greybeards will agree to it at all. We've already ticked them off-"

"- _you've_ ticked them off-"

"- and I don't know how many more favours they're going to be prepared to extend to us. They're all about that peace and nature nonsense. Why would they want to invite two bloodthirsty leaders into their midst? They're not exactly known for involving themselves in political matters and affairs."

"Okay, well, bloodthirsty as a descriptor might be a bit of an exaggeration-"

"Not in the Greybeard's eyes," Atrius snorted. "You've met them, you know what they're like. And even if we can convince them to do it – and that's a big if – who's to say Ulfric and Tullius are going to want to show?"

"Look, I know this doesn't appear at all to be in your favour," Lydia stopped, turning to face him. "But you're the one who's been saying this whole time that it's like the gods have been guiding you and paving the way for success. Remember how unlikely it was that we would ever find the Elder Scroll? Remember how we stumbled into that old Dwemer ruin without hardly a map to find the way and somehow it turned out to be the exact ruin Septimus mentioned, which would contain the exact Scroll you needed to learn the shout that can defeat Alduin? Remember how you survived the Thalmor Embassy despite being so outnumbered and having so little battle experience? Blind luck has gotten us this far, but is it really blind luck? To top it all off, you're Dragonborn – and just as all was about to become hopeless. My Thane, I'm not questioning your judgment-"

"-well, if you were, it wouldn't be the first time-"

"-but I think you've got to at least put your hope in something. Even if it's all just dumb luck."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tenderly. His shoulders relaxed a little as she did.

"I know, I know," he breathed. "We can't give up now. We have a job to do. We have to keep pressing forward no matter the odds. We can't give up on this world – or on each other."

"That's what I want to hear," Lydia smiled.

"Dragonborn," Arngeir greeted him on arrival. "I presume you have a reason for returning to us? What is it you need?"

"Arngeir – I know I haven't always respected your traditions in the past," Atrius admitted. "I'm afraid I need your help in a way that might violate them once more."

"Hmm. We do not keep record of wrongs as men of the world do, Dragonborn," Arngeir assured him. "Offences, though we do not concede them to be correct, are able to be overlooked. I ask again – what is it that you need?"

"I need you to host to a peace council between the two leaders of the civil war – Ulfrice Stormcloak and General Tullius," Atrius explained. "Paarthurnax suggested that a way to Alduin might be found if I could lure a dragon to the palace in Whitrun and trap it there. But the Jarl of Whiterun is only willing to allow this once the threat of war is no longer at his doorstep. Will you help us? Will you summon these men of war here to your monastery? All you will be required to do is host – I can mediate the council, if you wish."

Arngeir sighed.

"You misunderstand our authority," he said, taking a seat and gesturing for Atrius to do the same. "The Greybeards have never involved themselves in political affairs."

"Both sides respect the Greybeards," Atrius answered. "They will listen."

He didn't even know whether he believed it himself, but he had to at least convince Arngeir.

"Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you," Arngeir stated, rubbing his chin in thought. "This is the road we have to walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems. So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they still remember us."

"Thank you," Atrius breathed. "A million times, thank you."

"So why chase down Tullius first and not Ulfric?" Lydia asked him, as they made their way north to Solitude. With everything prepared to host the peace council, all they now needed were the relevant parties.

"I haven't been around Skyrim for long enough to know what kind of a man Ulfric is," Atrius answered her. "But I do know a lot about Imperials. They're natural diplomats. My hope is that it will be easiest to convince General Tullius to attend this council first – to him, it will seem as if he is the one extending the proverbial olive branch to Ulfric. For Ulfric not to accept will paint him as the unreasonable one in the eyes of the public. That, and if Ulfric is a true Nord as people say, then he will value the traditions of Skyrim. We will not need to stroke his ego as we will the Imperials."

"You do know that Ulfric once trained under the Greybeards, right?"

"What?" Atrius gave her a quizzical look. "Why didn't the Greybeards mention that?"

"I don't know," Lydia shrugged. "Maybe they're ashamed. Can you imagine training a man in the way of peace only to have him end up the ringleader of a brutal and successful rebellion? It probably isn't nice for them to think about."

"Maybe," Atrius replied. "But is it really just a rebellion? From what I understand, the man has half of Skyrim onside."

"Some would say it's the Imperial army who are the true rebels. Skyrim belonged to the Nords – all Ulfric is doing is taking it back."

"Maybe so. But let's leave those opinions outside the council chamber. Wouldn't want anyone to think we were picking sides."

"Yes, my Thane.

Atrius was surprised with how little hostility greeted them as they walked the streets of Solitude. After his little excursion to the Thalmor Embassy, he expected there to be wanted posters with his image plastered all around the stone walls of city. But for all the chaos in Skyrim, he found the place to be unexpectedly business-as-usual. Guards greeted them in a friendly manner and not a Thalmor officer was in sight. Even Castle Dour, General Tullius' stronghold, was left unguarded and practically defenceless.

"You'd think they're feeling pretty secure up in this end of Skyrim. The over-confidence is something admirable," Lydia whispered as they slipped through the front door unnoticed.

"Yeah, no kidding…"

General Tullius and his legate stood in a room with a large table discussing battle plans. He was easily recognisable from his armour – Atrius wasn't about to forget the man who had happily condemned him to death only months prior.

"Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into this castle?" the general asked as he saw Atrius and Lydia approaching. "Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?"

"I believe we've already met," Atrius reminded him through gritted teeth.

"Have we?" Tullius asked in surprise, surveying Atrius for a moment. "Oh. Oh, of course. You were at Helgen!"

"So he remembers…" Atrius heard Lydia mutter.

"One of the prisoners if I recall correctly," General Tullius continued jovially.

"One of the wrongful prisoners," Atrius corrected him.

"That's not my concern," the general dismissed him. "Is that what you came here looking for? An apology? Some sort of compensation for your trouble? You already have your freedom."

"No thanks to you," Atrius replied cooly. "But that's not why I'm here."

"Well, let's here it then. I'm a busy man – you're lucky I'm even granting you an audience."

His arrogance annoyed Atrius.

"I have a message from the Greybeards – do you wish to hear it?"

"The Greybeards?" Tullius repeated in a curious tone. "What do those old hermits want with me?"

"They're convening a peace council at High Hrothgar," Atrius informed him.

"Why?" the man scoffed. "There's nothing to discuss as long as that traitor Ulfric is in arms against his rightful emperor."

"I don't really care about your squabbles with Ulfric," Atrius replied. "But we need a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with. Skyrim is weakened. If you and Ulfric waste men, lives, and the will of the people of Skyrim, the dragons will devour everything you're fighting for. There will be nothing left for either of you."

"Huh…the dragons are getting to be a problem," the general conceded. "But I wasn't sent to Skyrim to fight dragons. My job is to quell this rebellion, and I intend to do just that, dragons or no dragons."

"The dragons are a bigger problem than the Stormcloaks right now!" Atrius spluttered in anger at his nonchalance. "Haven't you been listening to anything I just said? Or any voice of reason?"

"Watch your tongue!" the female legate shouted from the other side of the room, glaring at Atrius and gripping her sword.

"Stand down, Rikke!" General Tullius commanded her. She relaxed her grip and stormed out of the room with a scowl.

"Say I listen to what you have to say – say I take the advice of some traveller with no understanding of these affairs of politics – what if this dragon menace is never dealt with? What happens to this truce then?" the general questioned him.

"No understanding of political affairs?" Atrius scoffed at him. "I'll have you know my name is Atrius Wuunthor, the son of Angvis Wuunthor, Nord ambassador to the Imperial City and representative of Skyrim and all her affairs. I grew up under his instruction and also under the instruction of my tutors who taught me all there is to know about war and politics. Trust me when I say this is bigger than any war you've ever fought or heard about."

"What?" the general snapped in surprise. "I nearly executed you! You – the son of the late and celebrated Angvis Wuunthor?"

"You know my father?" Atrius asked him.

"Yes. Yes, of course I do," the general replied. "I met him once through my superior – the two never saw eye-to-eye on political matters and the interests of Skyrim. But I've never met a man before who held himself so powerfully and yet so gracefully. I knew he was the kind of man I could respect."

"Could you respect his son?" Atrius questioned him. "I need an answer, and I need it today before this situation gets any worse. Will you attend this peace council at High Hrothgar?"

"Yes," Tullius answered reluctantly. "Yes, fine. I'll come to this Greybeard council."

Windhelm, the great city where Ulfric made his lodging, was in a rougher state of affairs than Solitude, though if truth be told, that could have been attributed to the horrible weather. The townspeople were less refined, reflecting the differences between the cultural values of Nords and Imperials. Atrius found himself consistently torn between both – his upbringing made the luxury and comforts of Imperialism feel like home, but his blood longed for the harsh and exhilirating Nordic way of life. Perhaps in time he would find the best of both worlds – but for now he needed to find Ulfric Stormcloak.

When they stumbled across the palace, it was easy to see how they could have possibly missed it. Large and grand as it was, its stony walls were layered with grey heaps of snow. Flushed against the background of the billowing blizzard, it was hardly distinguishable from its surroundings.

There was no relief from the bitter cold once they stepped inside – save for the small fire in the hearth was not nearly sufficient to warm the open-plan room where Ulfric sat atop his throne. But perhaps that was the way he liked it.

The first thing Atrius noticed about him was that Ulfric's throne was the only part of the room raised above ground. Even as Ulfric lounged in his chair, he appeared to be looking down at everyone else. Atrius supposed he felt it would make him appear more intimidating or respectable. But to Atrius himself it was a joke. He'd met the man in person once escaping Helgen. He reminded him of a younger and more foolish version of his own father. Perhaps if Ulfric spent less time giving himself the appearance of kingship and more time behaving in a manner worthy of a king, he could command the respect of all of Skyrim. But, unlike General Tullius, at least Ulfric didn't forget faces.

"I remember you," he stated with a rumble as Atrius came forth and stood before him. "You were at Helgen with us! Have you come to join the war? Speak to Galmar. He handles the new recruits."

"That's not why I'm here," Atrius responded.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ulfric answered in a regretful tone. "If you change your mind, you know who to speak to. What does bring you to me?"

"I have a message from the Greybeards," Atrius informed him, confident that this would pique his curiosity after what he had learned from Lydia.

"It's about time they turned their gaze from the heavens and back to our bleeding homeland," Ulfric growled. "What do they want?"

"They want to negotiate a truce until the dragon menace is dealt with."

"I have the greatest respect for the Greybeards, of course," Ulfric nodded. "And the dragon attacks are a growing plague. But the political situation is still delicate. Not all the Jarls are fully committed to supporting me as High King. I can't afford to appear weak."

"It's lucky then that you won't have to," Atrius replied. "General Tullius has already agreed to attend. Answering the summons now is just protocol. But to snub them is to appear unreasonable. You know this, Ulfric. What do you say?"

"I know this," he rumbled. "Fine. I'll give Tullius one more chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs. I will answer this summons."

"Remind me – why aren't we just joining Ulfric's delegation on the way to High Hrothgar?" Lydia asked him. "I'm sure they'd let us tag along free of charge. We'd probably even have chariots and be a lot more comfortable."

They had stopped at an inn for the night, prepared to make the long journey back to High Hrothgar tomorrow.

"Because, Lydia, it will paint the wrong picture," Atrius informed her, folding up a set of newly washed trousers and packing them away in his travel bag. "If we show up as part of Ulfric's delegation, it will seem as if we've chosen a side. If I'm to mediate this council, I can't have either party suspecting me of playing favourites. And besides – there is a matter I must attend to first."

"And what matter is that?" Lydia asked him.

"You'll see."

They had been travelling offroad for some time. Atrius still hadn't revealed to Lydia what he was doing despite her persistent questioning. It all became clear once they reached a solitary shrine upon which stood a small altar and a variety of personal effects. They'd arrived at a shrine of Talos.

"Do you remember what I told you?" Atrius asked Lydia, as he pulled out the necklace from his armour. "My da made one last request of me."

"I remember," Lydia replied. The sky had darkened with clouds, and it was beginning to rain lightly.

"It seemed right to do this now," he told her, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. "It's the reason I came to Skyrim in the first place. The reason I stayed in Skryim just kept getting in the way. But now it seems like it might nearly be all coming to an end at last – it didn't feel right to leave my da's quest unfinished. I couldn't wrap up this chapter without having finished the last one."

"I understand. And I know why we came here. Is this a true goodbye for you?" she asked him softly.

"Aye. It is."

He bit back tears as he placed his father's amulet on the cold and wet stone next to the shrine. He felt Lydia's hand on his shoulder. But he couldn't cry, out of respect. He remembered those times as a boy when those strong arms had once comforted him and given him strength. He didn't want to let go of the last connection he had in this world to his da. But he was also at peace, knowing he'd finally done what his father had wanted. Now his da could rest.

Five days passed before they arrived to attend the peace council which they'd gone to so much trouble to organise. As cold as Skyrim was, the winter weather was truly beginning to set in. They were grateful to be journeying south – not so much to be journeying up a mountain.

"So, you've done it," Argneir greeted Atrius as he and Lydia finally trudged into High Hrothgar. "The men of violence are gathered here, in these halls whose very stones are dedicated to peace."

"These may be men of violence Arngeir, but this action will bring peace at least temporarily. You do not have to worry about violating your conscience," Atrius assured him.

"I should not have agree to host this council," Arngeir continued on. "The Greybeards have no business involving themselves in such matters."

"This was the only way to get Balgruufs help," Atrius reminded him, although truth be told, he wasn't all that certain this stance on the matter would be of any comfort to Argneir given that Arngeir had only grudgingly helped him learn how to defeat Alduin.

"Yes, yes. Which is why I allowed this…violation of all our tradition," Argneir muttered. "But regrets are pointless. Here we are."

"Where is the council being held?" Atrius asked him.

"Follow me, and I will take you to the room."

"And Lydia – is she permitted to join?"

"Your housecarl may be present by your side for any and all negotiations," Arngeir answered him. "Bear in mind that you'll be mediating this procession, and that both Ulfric and Tullius have brought their own personal protection. You're entitled to yours as much – if not, more – than either of them. And I warn you – if tempers flare, you may very well need it."

"Thanks, Arngeir," Atrius replied ironically.

He led them right and down the hall until they came to a large room complete with a table big enough to fill it. Both parties were stood at opposite sides, awaiting their instructions and each throwing menacing gazes towards the other. Among the Imperial delegates was a familiar face – Elenwen stood tall and as haughty as ever, ignoring Atrius as he walked into the room, as if he hadn't embarrassed her by gate-crashing her own tea party and killing several of her men. Atrius would very much liked to have spoken to her face-to-face, just to see if he could provoke a reaction out of her. However, there was no time to lose. Argneir was eager to begin and have these men off the grounds as soon as possible.

"Take your seat at the council table and let us see what wisdom we can find among these warriors of Skryim," he whispered to Atrius.

Atrius walked over to the far end of the room and sat down between the parties. As mediator of these negotiations, he was to have the seat of highest importance.

"Now that everyone is here, please take your seats so we can begin," Arngeir commanded from the opposite end of the table. "I hope that we have all come here in the spirit of-"

"No!" Ulfric cut across, folding his arms and glaring at Elenwen. "You insult us by bringing her to this negotiation? Your chief Talos-hunter?"

"That didn't take long…" Atrius heard Tullius' legate, Rikke, mutter.

"I have every right to be at this negotiation," Elenwen replied sternly as she took her seat with the rest of the Imperial delegation. "I need to ensure that nothing is agreed to here that violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat."

"She is part of the Imperial delegation," General Tullius added. "You can't dictate who I bring to this council."

"Please!" Argneir sighed with exasperation. "If we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere!"

A quite grumbling went up from the table before Argneir spoke up again.

"Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn's input on this matter."

Tullius and Ulfric both turned to Atrius, their faces fill with expectation. Atrius weighed up his options. On one hand, allowing Elenwen to stay might be a sign of good faith to her. If he extended the olive branch, perhaps the bounty on his head would be removed. On the other hand, he believed Elenwen to be completely superficial, intelligent, and unforgiving. He didn't trust her any further than he could telekinetically throw her, and the less she knew of his plans and decisions going forward, the better.

"The Thalmor have no business here," Atrius decided. "I know well the terms of the White-Gold Concordat. I also presume that as one of Cyrodiils most trusted generals, you would also be well-versed in its conditions, General Tullius?"

"I am," the general replied, red-faced and looking uncertain. Atrius knew he had trapped him with that – to admit to requiring Elenwen's presence would've made him look very incompetent indeed.

"Then it's settled," Atrius confirmed. "You and I will together ensure that nothing is agreed upon which will violate the terms of the White-Gold Concordat. Your guest must quit this negotiation at once."

"Very well," Elenwen spat, shooting Atrius a scathing look as she rose from her seat. "Enjoy your petty victory, Ulfric. The Thalmor will treat with whatever government rules Skyrim. We would not think of interfering in your civil war."

"Ha! Skyrim will never bow to the Thalmor!" Ulfric's housecarl called after her as she turned to leave. "Unlike your Imperial friends here…"

"You're lucky I respect the Greybeards council, Galmar!" Rikke shouted at the man angrily, rising from her own seat.

"Legate!" General Tullius reprimanded her. "We respresent the Emperor here!"

"Sorry, sir," she replied in a calmer voice after taking a deep breath and taking her seat once again. "It won't happen again."

"Now that that's settled, may we proceed?" Argneir interrupted.

"I have something to say first," Ulfric demanded as he also took his seat.

"Here we go…" Rikke muttered.

"The only reason I agreed to attend this council was to deal with the dragon menace," Ulfric continued. "There's nothing else to talk about. Unless the Empire is finally ready to renounce its unjust claim to rule over the free people of Skyrim. We're here to arrange a temporary truce to allow the Dragonborn here to deal with the dragons. Nothing more. I consider even talking to the Empire a generous gesture."

"Are you done?" General Tullius shouted over him. "Did you just come here to make speeches, or can we get down to business?"

"Yes, let's get this over with," Ulfric agreed lazily.

Arngeir looked around the table and back at Atrius with uncertainty before speaking up.

"Are we ready to proceed? Jarl Ulfric? General Tullius?"

The men nodded in silent consent.

"This council is unprecendented," Arngeir continued in a grave tone. "We are gathered here at the Dragonborn's request. I ask that you all respect the spirit of High Hrothgar, and do your best to begin the process of achieving a lasting peace in Skyrim. Who would like to open the negotiations?"

"Yes, let's get down to it," Ulfric replied, his booming voice as confident as ever. "We want control of Markarth. That's our price for agreeing to a truce."

Atrius scoffed at him internally. Perhaps he wasn't entirely on the Imperials side, but this was pure arrogance – surely Ulfric couldn't expect to lay down such strong terms and expect everyone to agree? Confident as he may be, Atrius was equally sure that he wasn't any closer to gaining control of Skyrim than General Tullius was. He had nothing to stand on by making this demand.

General Tullius appeared to be of the same mind.

"Ulfric, you can't seriously expect us to give up Markarth at the negotiating table," he smirked. "You hope to gain in council what you've been unable to take in battle, is that it?"

"I'm sure Ulfric doesn't expect something in return for nothing," Atrius interrupted, giving Ulfric a chance to redeem his position, who nodded slightly. "What do you want in return, General Tullius?"

"Well, since we're all here at your request, I'd like to know what you think Markarth is worth," the general answered him. "After all, you are Atrius Wuunthor, the son of Angvis Wuunthor – I trust in your ability to weigh up such a matter fairly."

"You mistake my judgement, General Tullius. I am a Nord, but not a citizen of Skyrim," Atrius informed him. "I don't know much about these lands or their respective worth. Perhaps I might defer to my housecarl, Lydia, to better inform me?"

Lydia gave him an uncertain look.

"Are you sure it's within my authority to decide such a matter?" she asked him.

"You were sworn to protect me with your life, and therefore, I trust you with my life," he answered her simply. "If I can trust you with my life, I can trust you with this matter."

"Ah…well…" she stammered, looking rather nervous about speaking before this council. "How about Riften?"

Riften was a run-down and corrupt town, to be sure – but it was also large and heavily marketed. As one of Skyrim's sea trading routes, Riften was an advantageous position to hold, as unruly as her citizens could be.

"Hmm…the Rift would help secure our communications with Cyrodiil…and threaten Ulfric's southern flank…" the general mused. Atrius wondered if it was wise for him to be discussing his own strategy in the presence of his enemy.

"The Dragonborn has spoken, Tullius," Ulfric interrupted impatiently. "Markarth will be ours."

"You know as well as I do that we can't hand over Markarth on these terms!" General Tullius replied, suddenly embolded by Ulfric's eagerness. "We want compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten."

"What happened at Karthwasten?" Atrius asked them.

"That traitor slaughtered the very people he claimed to be fighting for!" Rikke explained before either Ulfric or Tullius could speak, her eyes glaring straight into Ulfric's with pure wrath and hatred. "True sons of Skyrim would never do such things!"

"Damned Imperial lies!" Galmar growled, smashing a clenched fist into the table. "My men would never stoop to such methods, even in retaliation for your butchery at-"

"This is our homeland, Tullius," Ulfric cut across him. "All the blood spilled in this war is on your head."

"Enough!" Atrius shouted, silencing the men and drawing the rooms attention his way. "Ulfric – you will provide compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten. But the compensation will not go to General Tullius or to Jarl of that hold. It will go a local temple to distribute to the needy and those who lost a loved one who they were dependent on for financial well-being. You will pay the bloodprice for each confirmed victim. Are we clear?"

He did not have the time to play detective and determine who was in the right and wrong between the two parties. Both men murmured, but did not object.

"It seems we may have an agreement," Arngeir said slowly after no one spoke up. "Jarl Ulfric. General Tullius. These are the terms currently on the table. Markarth will be handed over to Ulfric's forces. The Stormcloaks will withdraw from the Rift, allowing Imperial troops unhindered access. The Stormcloaks will pay appropriate compensation for the massacre at Karthwasten. You both agree to this?"

"The sons of Skyrim will live up to their agreements, as long as the Imperials hold to theirs," Ulfric affirmed.

"The Empire can live with these terms, yes. For a temporary truce until the dragon menace is dealt with," General Tullius agreed. "After that, Ulfric, there will be a reckoning. Count on it."

They eyed each other menacingly before Ulfric broke the silence.

"Come Galmar," he muttered to his housecarl as he stood up from his seat. "We have a lot of work to do."


	15. The Fallen

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE FALLEN**

Ulfric and Tullius' respective parties had both departed shortly after the closure of the council, both eager to enforce their promises – and get the other out of their sight. Atrius and Lydia stayed behind with the Greybeards. Their next mission was to find out how to lure a dragon to Dragonsreach. After all, they weren't prepared to go trawling around the countryside looking for one in hopes that they could safely outrun it all the way back to Whiterun.

"I'm not sure how I felt about the move you pulled back there," Lydia stated once they had regained their solitude in the halls of High Hrothgar.

"What do you mean?"

"You asked for my opinion on a key political decision," she reminded him. "I as good as made an important wartime call. I had both Jarl Ulfric and General Tullius in obedience to me. It was…very strange."

"It's the nature of politics," Atrius shrugged. "Third parties are often called in to resolve disputes in an impartial manner. In that particular instance you were well equipped to deal with it. Far better than I with my lack of knowledge of the lands, and better than Ulfric or Tullius with their motives and biases."

"I'm a housecarl. I've spent my entire life in servitude never hoping that I would have any kind of authority.

"But why shouldn't you?" Atrius questioned her. "After all, you've trained under Irileth. Is she not Balgruuf's housecarl? Where did her authority come from?"

"That's…different," Lydia hummed. "The housecarl of a Jarl is held in higher esteem than the average housecarl."

"I'll take your word for it. But be that as it may – sometimes people are born into great positions. Sometimes they are promoted into them."

"Are you telling me I've been promoted?" she chuckled at him. "I think I deserve a raise."

"Ah, indeed you do," he laughed back at her. "Not to worry, Lydia – when the history books are written, I'm sure they'll honour the housecarl of the Dragonborn much more than the housecarl of a Jarl. Perhaps even more than the great Jarl Ulfric and General Tullius themselves, hmm? You will be forever celebrated as the warrior who made an important political decision; Riften for Markarth!"

Her only response was to laugh and throw a cushion at his face.

"Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax growled as Atrius trudged through the snow towards him in the morning sun of the next day. "I grant it you have not returned for tinvaak. But…Zu'u kogaan…you honour me with your presence. What is it you seek, fahdon?"

"I've managed to secure the right conditions. Jarl Balgruuf will agree to let me trap a dragon in his palace. I hate to do that to him…but I haven't been left with much choice."

"Niid, krosis…I understand you do not want to…impose upon your companion," Paarthurnax replied. "But you are correct. Pruzaan…this is the best way to find Alduin."

"You told me what I need to do. But how can I do it?" Atrius asked him. "What dragon would be willing to come to Dragonsreach? How would I get one there? It's not like I can just walk right up to one and ask. If I could do that, there would be no need for this trickery in the first place."

"You cannot compel a dragon to meet you at Dragonsreach. Togaat thu'um. Your best attempt lies in your voice."

"What do you mean?"

"Kah. You have already tasted the pride of my elder brother, Alduin?" Paarthurnax proposed.

Atrius nodded.

"He is not the only one," Paarthurnax continued. "Many dragons lie in ahmik…servitude to Alduin. But many seek to escape it, and establish their own bahlaan – their worthiness."

"What does any of this have to do with me?"

"You defeated Alduin, and you have shaken his kinbok - his leadership," Paarthunax explained. "There are many a dovah who would relish in the opportunity to face you in battle. For if you would kneel before them, all others would be forced to kneel before them. I know the name of one. Odahviing. Call his name from the helm of Dragonsreach. His arrogance in response your Thu'um – it will be too much of a temptation for him to resist."

"Odahviing," Atrius repeated. "I think I can remember that. And what if it doesn't work?"

"Then may Akatosh guide you to a more promising solution," the dragon chuckled uncharacteristically in response.

"We're ready, Dragonborn. Just say the word."

The look on Jarl Balgruuf's face said it all. He had reluctantly agreed to keep his promise to Atrius last night when Atrius had returned from High Hrothgar and informed him of the agreed upon truce between the warring parties in Skyrim. Balgruuf had mustered the best of his men to prepare for today's plan – trapping a dragon in the palace of Whiterun.

In truth, Atrius had no idea if this was even going to work. Paarthurnax had seemed certain that this Odahviing would respond to his call. Half of Atrius hoped all this preparation would be for nothing. Looking into Balgruuf's pale but determined features, he knew that he would keep his promise. Atrius hated doing this to him. But it could not be helped.

"Are your men standing by?" Atrius asked, fastening the remaining latches of his armour.

"As I promised, my men stand ready," the Jarl confirmed. "The great chains are oiled. We wait on your word."

"I'm ready. Let's go trap a dragon."

Jarl Balgruuf led Atrius and Lydia from the guest rooms of the palace, up the rear stairs, and out towards a great balcony. Atrius admittedly hadn't taken a look at it yet – it was grand to behold. Overlooking the valleys and mountains to the east, the stone floors were large enough to host gatherings and receptions of possibly hundreds of guests at a time. But after all – it would need to comfortably host a dragon today.

"Go ahead and call this dragon of yours," Atrius heard Balgruuf say in a deadpanned voice, interrupting his thoughts and admirations. "We're ready."

Atrius gave him a stiff nod and they exchanged meaningful looks. He made his way with Lydia to the edge of the balcony, surveying for one last moment the breathtaking view that was before him. He then looked up to the sky and with a deep breath in he gave a great shout.

"ODAHVIING!"

The echoes of his voice rippled through the valley. He now understood how he had been able to hear the Greybeards all the way from Whiterun when they had called – at this great height, the shout was indeed amplified. Even if Odahviing were somewhere far away, he was sure to have heard.

And yet, there was nothing but silence. No dark figure appearing from the horizon. No swooshing of wings or winds.

"Did it work?" Atrius head Lydia whispered silently. He said nothing but to shush her and to continue listening intently. Moments later they heard a familiar roaring echoing through the mountains.

"Stand at the ready!" one of the Jarl's men called out, the rest drawing their swords, bows, and arrows in preparation. They had been ordered not to kill the dragon – but there was no rule against using their weapons for self-defence.

"Stand back, Lydia!" Atrius ordered her as a dark shadow approached from above. She ran backwards to the centre of the room, sword drawn and face bold.

At that moment the dragon swooped down on them.

"JOOR-ZAH-FRUL!"

The familiar glowing aura hit Odahviing squarely. Atrius had acted quickly, but not quickly enough – the body of a guard when flying into the air above the balcony and disappeared down onto the cliffs below. Atrius hoped the poor soul would have a quick death.

The remaining men fell back slightly as the dragon came in to land, forced by Atrius' shout. Atrius and Lydia ran together to the end of the hall, firing arrows wildly in an attempt to provoke the dragon into coming after them.

"Get out of there!" Atrius shouted at the remaining guards, who were still attempting to fight off Odahviing's advances from the edge of the balcony. They needed to lure him further towards the palace doors before the lock would drop and successfully trap him. They only had one opportunity to get this right.

The men turned at Atrius' order, one not moving fast enough and getting caught in the dragon's teeth. He was shaken like a toy in the mouth of a dog before being released and thrown into a stone wall. The soldier crumpled to the ground, body unmoving and blood pooling at various points from his armour. A healer on standby rushed to attend to him, but Atrius suspected it would be too late.

With no remaining attackers in range, Odahviing set his sights on Atrius standing in front of the palace doors

"That's it," Atrius muttered through gritted teeth. "Come a little closer. Come get me!"

The dragon roared before using its clumsy and ill-adapted feet to crawl forward beneath the ceiling of the palace, his target marked.

"NOW!"

At Balgruuf's order, a heavy stone yoke dropped from the roof and came to bind itself clean around the dragon's neck. He roared in shock, and no doubt embarrassment, as he realised his predicament. He was not able to throw off the weight or free himself. He was at Atrius' mercy now.

"Nid!" the dragon cried out pitifully. "Horvutah med kodaav. Caught like a bear in a trap. Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin."

"You clearly speak our language. Do you speak it well?"

Atrius was concerned that the dragon in question may not be able to give him any coherent answer as to where Alduin might be. This one was even fonder of his native tongue than Paarthurnax. Atrius could not blame him.

"Ah. I forget. You do not have the dovah speech," Odahviing mocked him. "My eagerness to meet you in battle was my undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute your…hmm…low cunning in devising such a grahmindol. Stratagem. Zu'u bonaar. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this…humiliating position. Hiind siiv Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?"

"That's right. Where is he hiding?" Atrius demanded. It's not like he expected Odahviing to just tell him without anything to bribe the dragon with, but he had to give it a go. To his surprise, the dragon was very willing to oblige him.

"Rinik vazah. An apt phrase," Odahviing answered. "Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu'um for myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves, of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him."

"How does this help me find Alduin?" Atrius asked, diverting the dragon back on topic. He knew only too well how prone dragons were of getting distracted and caught up in the details. Usually this was fine – but time was now of the essence.

"Unslaad krosis. Innumerable pardons," Odahviing apologised, although whether this was genuine or not, it was hard for Atrius to say. "I digress. He has travelled to Sovngarde to regain his strength, devouring the sillesejoor…the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards. His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pah ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshalled there."

"He's devouring the souls of the dead in Sovngarde?" Atrius repeated silently, thinking of the soul of his departed da who was now resting there. Was no one safe from the terror of Alduin's destruction and greed?

"Zu'u lost ofan hin laan," Odahviing rumbled. "Now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?"

"Not until Alduin is defeated," Atrius replied, turning to walk away.

"Ah. Well. Hmm…krosis," the dragon called after him, causing Atrius to stop in his tracks and turn back to face him. "There is one…detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention."

"Let's hear it then."

"You have the Thu'um of a dovah. But without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course…I could fly you there. But not while imprisoned like this."

Atrius folded his arms in thought. Was this a risk he could take? He didn't know the exact location of Skuldafn, but he now had a fair idea. However, the eastern mountains…it could be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Meanwhile, his da's soul might already have been consumed…

"My Thane, you musn't!" Lydia hissed at him. "He is lying! Don't do this – we'll go together. We can even leave right now if you want."

"There is no time, Lydia," he answered her stubbornly.

She pulled back from him and stared.

"My Thane, I strongly urge you to reconsider."

He looked into her eyes. She wasn't crying this time. She was stony-face and stiff, her gaze boring into his with both care and pleading. He looked away, reaching into his pocket, and pulled out a large bag of gold, thrusting it into her hands.

"Take this to Proventus, Balgruuf's steward," he ordered her. "Buy Breezehome down in the Plains District of Whiterun. Wait for me there."

He then pulled her in close and placed his forehead to hers, staring back into her eyes once more.

"I will return," he promised her.


End file.
